The Heroines of the Four Houses
by Rhiannon Starlight
Summary: A girl is traumatized as a result of an earlier vampire attack. When the past comes back to haunt her, will she be able to conquer what she fears, or will she be haunted for life?
1. The Vampire and the Guardian

Thunder crackled in the distance and bolts of lightning split the night sky in two, unleashing torrents of rain upon Hogsmeade town. The wind blew in frequent cold gusts that sent shivering passers-by to seek refuge from the storm in nearby buildings, until the streets were nearly deserted. Everything outside was wet and dark and cold.

Inside The Three Broomsticks, the village's most popular pub, however, everything was bustling with warmth and light and cheer. Madam Rosmerta, the pub's pretty young owner, went around to table after noisy table, delivering steaming mugs of butterbeer and mulled mead to grateful customers who had come in to seek shelter from the pouring rain. With all the noise and activity going on, none of the customers noticed the five grim and quiet figures sitting at a table in a dark corner.

The most prominent of them was a tall, thin, and ancient looking man, a wizard with long, flowing white hair and a white beard. He wore a tall, pointed cap and long gray robes, and his face was lined by his numerous years. Behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes were grave with worry.

"Albus," one of his companions said to him from across the table, "What news did you hear, regarding, well…" The man turned around to make sure that nobody was listening, then he whispered, "…_the four families_?"

"You need not whisper, Filius," Albus Dumbledore answered calmly. "You won't be heard over this noise."

Filius Flitwick looked a bit wary. Being a squeaky-voiced dwarf of a man with flowing white hair like Dumbledore's, he was so small that he had to sit on a pile of books to see over the table.

"As for the four families, I think you need not worry about them," Dumbledore continued. "You see, I made special arrangements to ensure their safety. Two families were even instructed to move closer to us, where they can be better under our protection."

Another person at the table gasped. Pomona Sprout, a dumpy little witch, was sitting to Dumbledore's right, wearing ragged garb and a pointed brown hat to match. She was looking at the wise old wizard in horror.

"But Albus!" she said to him. "You know that it will do no good for them to move to a different country! You-Know-Who can reach them anywhere overseas if he wants to! Why, don't you know that? They must use the Fidelius Charm to go into hiding, for that is the only way to protect them! For all we know, they could all be dead by now-"

"Silence, please, Pomona," Dumbledore said evenly. "I am perfectly aware of these families' whereabouts, and I assure you that they are all alive and safe, and that none of them need to go into hiding. I have appointed a special guardian to watch over them all. This guardian possesses powers that can and _will_ protect…"

"Excuse me, Albus? Did you say…_one_ guardian?" Pomona continued incredulously. "How can _one_ guardian take care of _four_ families?"

"I assure you that the guardian is most qualified for the job, Pomona," Dumbledore said. "Please do not doubt me. The guardian for these four families is one of my most skilled Aurors in the entire Order of the Phoenix. It is of extreme importance that these families are highly protected, and that they never bring together the things which they are sworn to protect."

"But who exactly _are_ the four families?" inquired the thin, sallow-skinned young man who sat at Flitwick's right, a man with a hooked nose and greasy black hair.

"The four families are those people who are protecting a very dangerous and powerful weapon that we cannot afford to surrender to the dark side, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "The weapon comes in four parts, only functioning when all four parts are united together. It is our job to protect these four families and to make sure that the components of the weapon remain in their possession and are never brought together for any evil purpose."

Severus shot Dumbledore a shrewd and questioning glance.

"Why is the weapon not destroyed, then?" he asked, his voice quickening. "If it is so dangerous, it shouldn't even exist!"

"Ah, but, Severus," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, "The weapon is only dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands, or is used for the wrong purpose. But used in the right way, it can work to our benefit. Using this weapon according to the guidelines for which it was made is the secret to using it well. For now, though, it must _not_ be used. At this time, we must only protect it from the clutches of dark wizards."

"I see," said Snape, raising his eyebrows. "But _who_ are these families who protect the weapon?"

"The Nelson, Falcon, Wolf, and Matrix families have been trusted to do it," Dumbledore replied, looking a bit tired.

A sigh followed his words and everyone's attention shifted to the last, yet so far unspoken member of the table. She was a stern woman with dark hair tied into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were narrowed, but she looked as tired as Dumbledore.

"Albus?" she said softly, breaking the silence.

"Yes, Minerva?" Dumbledore addressed her kindly.

"You can be sure that I do not doubt the decisions you make," Minerva McGonagall said quietly. "But I am curious to know your reasoning in choosing these families. What is it that is so special about them that they are the worthiest candidates to protect something so powerful and dangerous?"

Dumbledore contemplated how best to answer the question for a few moments, before he leaned in toward the table. The others instinctively drew in closer as well, as if anticipating sharing in a special secret.

"The reason for that," Dumbledore said, "is not even within my control. It is something you must not know right now, but it is the very_ idea_ on which this weapon is based."

The companions merely looked puzzled at this statement.

"You see," Dumbledore said, "The only thing I can tell you now is this: As the heads of your houses you four must all work _together_. Whatever differences you have, you must put them aside in favor of reaching a common goal. _Cooperation_ is the key to success.

"Now you might all be different people. You all came from different houses at Hogwarts, after all. You might look at the person sitting next to you at this table and think that you have nothing in common with them. For instance, Minerva, you might feel that you and Severus here are very different people. You come from rivaling houses, and while you have had years of teaching experience here, this is Severus' first year at the job. I know that you two may not get along very well…"

McGonagall and Snape both avoided Dumbledore's eyes when he said this.

"…but these are petty differences that you must cast aside in order to complete our purpose. I have placed my utmost confidence in everyone sitting at this table, and I do not wish to be let down."

Everyone was silent. Dumbledore's companions were dumbfounded at his words, privately thinking that his warning was a bit strange, and wondering exactly what it had to do with them. Snape furrowed his brow and Sprout rested her head on her hand and stared at Dumbledore, not knowing what else to say. It was Dumbledore who finally broke the silence.

"Shall I order a round of drinks for everyone, then? I think there is nothing more that need be said concerning this situation, at least not for now."

There was a grateful murmuring of assent, and Dumbledore ordered a round of butterbeers from the smiling Rosmerta, who had come around to take their order.

All the same, the four companions could not forget Dumbledore's words, which troubled them all for a long time afterward.

* * *

While the storm drew everyone in Hogsmeade to the warmth of The Three Broomsticks pub, an even fiercer one raged over a small cottage in Wales. Although the thunder was roaring outside the cottage, a toddler was peacefully sleeping in her crib inside, unaware of the weather. Beside the crib was a small basket, and in the basket there was a wand on which a black scarab beetle perched in the dark. It was curiously flecked with gold and would have glittered with a sequined magnificence had there been light. While the scarab itself remained unseen, it was aware of everything going on in the room.

While the rain poured incessantly outside, an uneasy quiet was forming inside the toddler's room, which only the scarab seemed to notice. It tensed up suddenly, as if steeling itself up for something about to happen.

As if on cue, the bedroom window opened, and the likeness of a beautiful young woman stepped in. Her skin had absolutely no color except the pure white of fresh snow. Long locks of dark hair flowed from her head, and her hooded robes were black.

She turned her head, cautiously surveying the scene, and looked toward the crib where the toddler lay asleep. A smile overtook the strange lady's face as she slowly bared her teeth, expressing her longing and anticipation. When she did this, a lock of her hair fell out of place to reveal the only flaw around her pretty face. Her right ear was deformed, for it was much smaller than it should have been.

In an instant, the vampire flew to the crib and pounced on the child, who awoke with a start, screaming as a set of teeth slashed into its neck.

The scarab in the basket was now a beetle no longer, but a brilliantly beautiful young witch, with flowing black hair that was streaked with gold.

The witch did not spare a second to regard the scene, but immediately jumped at the vampire, grabbing it by the neck. This attack caused the baby to fall back down into the crib, and as it lay there, it still screamed.

The witch ignored the child and focused on the vampire, who was struggling against her strong grip. She held the vampire down on the floor with all her might, so the latter decided to change tactics by leaning forward and maliciously biting her on the nose.

In surprise, the witch cried out and let go of the vampire, who tried to take advantage of the opportunity. She reached out to scratch the witch's face with her long fingernails, but this time the witch was too quick. Grabbing the vampire by the arm, she used all her strength to drag her across the room. Then, clutching onto the strange woman's throat, she heaved her up and hurled her out the window. When the vampire hit the ground below, the witch pulled out her wand, pointed, and yelled, "CRUCIO!"

A jet of light flew from the wand and the vampire screamed, on fire with pain. She writhed and twisted on the ground in agony, pounding her fists on the ground and cursing the witch at the top of her lungs.

When the spell died away, and the witch looked down at the vampire with disgusted contempt, calling down in a loud voice:

"_Never_ again shall you come to this house, Vera!"

The vampire stared up at the witch, breathless with pain and eyes full of malice, but saying nothing.

"If I ever see you around this house again, I _will_ kill you. Is that understood?" the witch continued, dangerously.

The vampire got up, clutching at her sides, gasping for breath. She paused to flick a lock of hair over her deformed ear to cover it up, and hobbled away.

"My master will avenge me," she snarled as she left. "You will _pay_ for this!"

Inside the child's bedroom the witch's warlike demeanor left her. She lovingly picked up the baby and rocked it, gently singing her back to sleep with the sweet melody of a Celtic lullaby.

When the child was finally quiet again, the witch gently placed it back into its crib, giving it a last loving gaze before she turned away. As she did so, she spied a gold chain on the floor, gasped, and immediately snatched it up, clutching it to her throat with the same fierce protectiveness that had guarded the child. The chain had a round locket attached to it and had fallen off her neck during her fight with the vampire. She gave a cry of disappointment to find it broken.

She sighed and disappeared, and once again there was a black scarab beetle on the floor. It calmly lay there, acting as if nothing had happened at all.

* * *

An hour later, the storm was dying down. A fire burned in the middle of a nearby forest, illuminating two figures in hooded black robes standing beside it.

"I couldn't do it, my lord," one of them, a woman, said wearily. "I went everywhere, even across the sea. I went to all the families to whom I was supposed to go. Every time, I only managed to get but a sip of blood. Then this guardian of theirs would attack me, always showing up where I was, as if she always knew what I was doing and could follow me wherever I went." She shook her head in despair. "It is no use, my lord. There is nothing I can do without magic."

The woman fell down and broke into sobs which she wiped off of her face with the hem of her sleeve. The sight was a gruesome one, for vampires cried not with tears, but with blood.

The man sitting next to her was not moved by the sight. One might call him a man, but in truth he was more like a concentration of evil magic than the man he used to be. He had a snakelike face as white and drained of color as was the face of the vampire woman, with red eyes and slits for nostrils. This was Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world. He was so evil that most of his enemies were even frightened to say his name, always referring to him in their conversations as "You-Know-Who".

The vampire woman cowered to the ground.

"Master, forgive me, you know I have tried," she pleaded. "It was the witch…I couldn't defeat her…"

"Silence, Vera!" Voldemort commanded in a high, terrible voice.

It was as if the whole forest had fallen silent at his order.

"You cause shame to the Dark forces with your astounding stupidity, Vera," Voldemort snarled. "You would think that I have no use for non-magic filth like you. Why, I could pull out my wand and kill you right now, if I really wanted to. I could even torture you most _terribly_ before you died, as farewell gift."

The vampire shuddered.

"Yet for reasons untold, I will keep you in my service."

"Thank you, master, thank you…" The vampire cried with joy and kissed Voldemort's feet.

"Never fail me again, Vera." Voldemort warned.

"No, master, never again…" Vera swore.

"If it is an Auror that stands in your way, I will see to it myself that she is captured, but it is still _your_ job to capture the weapon I am after, and to kill the families that protect it. _None_ of them must be left alive."

"None of them, my lord," Vera whispered, her voice quavering.

Voldemort's voice abruptly lowered, and he brushed a cold, white hand over the vampire's shrunken ear. "Never forget the gift I have given you, Vera."

"No," Vera replied in a small, obedient voice.

Voldemort ordered Vera to stand. When she did, he forced to look him in the eye, scanning her face closely. "Remember that although you are not like one of us, you do have special powers in your right. It is _your_ duty to use them effectively. Remember my words, Vera."

The vampire nodded solemnly.

"I will render this enemy of yours useless so that nothing stands in the way of your mission. But after that I had better not see your face until the weapon is safely in your hands."

"Yes, master."

Voldemort seemed satisfied now. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head, and Vera did the same, once again covering her imperfect ear. She followed her master out of the forest without another word.


	2. The Rendezvous

"So this is the place."

"It is, Vera. And you know what you have to do now."

Lord Voldemort appraised the humble cottage in front of him with an air of command. Vera was standing by his side, looking tired and frail, with her unbound hair flapping loosely around her thin face. On the other side of Voldemort, a plump and ratty-looking young man with colorless hair and a grubby complexion was trembling. He surveyed the scene with fear instead of his master's eager anticipation.

"The spell is undone now, and if what Wormtail here tells me is true," Voldemort gestured to the man, "I will be finished with my business in a short while. A little bit of killing is not a strange task to me."

"K-k-killing?" Wormtail sputtered, his face blanching with fright. "Please, master, is there not _some_ other way?"

"There is _no_ other way," Voldemort growled. "It must be done, and it _will_ be done. I would not be wasting my time on a pitiful little family if I thought that this did not have to be done."

Wormtail shivered with dread as his watery eyes darted back and forth.

"And do not think of betraying me, either. Because if you did, my able servant here could use the powers I have given her to drink _every_ wretched drop of your blood."

Wormtail gulped, eyeing the beautiful but deadly vampire woman standing loyally by her master's side. Vera did not look back at him, but stared straight ahead, stone-faced. She swelled out in pride at Voldemort's allusion to her abilities, and she was sure that she was back in his good graces.

"I would n-never betray you, master," Wormtail stuttered.

"Of course you would never betray me, you pitiful rat!" Voldemort sneered. "It was the dearness of your life that brought you into my service, and it is the dearness of your life that will keep you there!"

Wormtail stared at the ground and mumbled something under his breath.

"So James Potter has put the safety of his family into his friend's hands, and his friend has unsuspectingly handed it to you," Voldemort continued. "How pitifully foolish. Because you have handed it all to me, Mr. Pettigrew, and there is no turning back. You might as well accept that fact."

Wormtail said nothing, but Vera noted that he was starting to look sick.

"And as for you, Vera…" Voldemort turned to her. "I have found the solution to your problem." He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an object.

It appeared to be a snail shell, gleaming white against the paleness of Voldemort's outstretched hand. It actually seemed to give off its own light, radiantly shining against the darkness of the evening.

Voldemort leaned in close to Vera, and in his foul, high-pitched voice he whispered his instructions. He then dropped the gleaming shell into the pocket of her robes.

"Tell nobody about this, Vera."

She nodded obediently.

"Remember," Voldemort continued, "the enemy you are to kill is a powerful one, and powerfully protected as well. It was a struggle even for me to create this weapon, and I will not have my efforts wasted. Do this task that I have assigned to you, and your reward will be great."

Vera breathed in deeply.

"And if you fail…" Voldemort made a throat-cutting gesture in front of his neck. But Vera was not afraid this time.

"I will not fail, my lord."

"Good. _Very_ good." Voldemort's red eyes leered at his servant. "You know what to do now. Do not come back to me until you are done with it. And do it quickly."

"I will, my lord."

"You will, you will," Voldemort cackled. "Now go." He waved his hand to dismiss the girl.

Turning back to Wormtail, he regarded the man with contempt. "Now, where were we, Mr. Pettigrew? Oh, yes…that's right." Voldemort pointed at the cottage.

"_Now_ we get down to business!"


	3. The News Breaks Out

The events that happened at the cottage that night made smashing headlines. _The Daily Prophet _delivered the story to the entire United Kingdom the next morning, with the heading in very large type.

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED HAS BEEN VANQUISHED!**

Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold made the statement last

night that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been conquered.

"There is no doubt in my mind," said Bagnold, looking

awed as she addressed reporters. "For the life of me, I cannot

figure out why, but all we know is that it has happened at last.

The community is safe now."

The story is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named broke

into the cottage of James and Lily Potter, two of his strongest

opponents, and murdered them. The curious part is that he tried

to kill their one-year-old son as well, but Lord--------- was actually

the one destroyed in the attempt.

"It truly is a miracle," said Bagnold. "The Potter's

young son, Harry, never should have survived. The fact that

he did suggests something very special about him, to say the least."

The Boy Who Lived is no doubt the miracle that the

Minister says he is, surviving unharmed through an attack by

Lord --------- himself. He was rescued from his parents' cottage,

which had eventually been destroyed. The decision is yet to be

made regarding his care.

"It is really very sad," said Amelia Susan Bones, Head

of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "The child who

survives is a boy wonder, and now he is an orphan-

* * *

It was probably the most important news release the paper had ever seen, but Morgance had read enough. After looking at the story again with shock, she rolled up the newspaper and threw it on the ground. Then she slid back into her chair at the breakfast table, with her head in her hands. 


	4. A Grim Celebration

On the evening following Voldemort's demise, the Wolf family household was aglow as it had not been in a long time. The supper table was laden with a rich crimson silk tablecloth, polished crystal goblets, pewter silverware, candlesticks, and the best set of china that the family owned. Decorated with pictures of sea dragons and ancient Druid symbols, it had been in their possession for generations. The symbols were only a reflection of the family's Celtic heritage, however, and not of any current religious significance. After all, the Wolfs had been Roman Catholics for years.

But perhaps it was inaccurate to state that the Wolfs were Catholics, for they only seemed so in technicality. Although the two children in the family had been baptized as Catholics, tragedy had caused their religious practice to be a thing of the past.

There used to be three children in the family, a boy and two girls. However, their father was murdered by Death Eaters, and shortly afterward the older girl was kidnapped and never again found. The remaining son and daughter stayed with their mother, Mrs. Lacerta Wolf, who seldom spoke of her deceased husband, and even more seldom spoke of her daughter's disappearance. Neither event was ever said to be the reason why, but what remained of the Wolf family thereafter quietly stopped practicing their religion.

Lacerta Wolf was only about thirty-five, but she looked at least ten years older. She was pale and gaunt, and had long, unkempt hair. People said that it had used to be beautiful hair, but the fierce war that Voldemort had waged, as well as the loss of her husband and daughter, had taken a harsh turn on her once-youthful appearance. Where her hair had been shiny and black, it was now dull and liberally streaked with gray. It was always either tied up in a bun or hanging haphazardly around her head, framing her lined, careworn face.

Despite the aged looks brought about by the tragedy of her losses, Lacerta had kept her sane and sensible mind, raising her two children, working at a clothing business, and tending to aurors injured in Voldemort's war. Now that Voldemort was proclaimed defeated, she had invited her friends to what she called a celebration.

The lavishness of the table settings notwithstanding, the guests knew, and Lacerta knew that the guests knew, that the event was a celebration in name only. It was true that the entire magical community was elated about the end of Voldemort's reign, but those who had personally known the late Lily and James Potter were much less so. The Potters had been strong acquaintances of the Wolf family and even stronger fighters against Voldemort. It would otherwise have been an occasion for revelry that their enemy had been defeated, but because two of the Potters had been murdered in the process, the event that took place at the Wolf residence was, in essence, a funeral gathering.

The guests were all seated in a candlelit room around the elaborately set dining table, trying to make small talk through the heavy blanket of bittersweet sadness that lay over the room. It was not easy, however, when almost no one felt as if they could carry on a normal conversation under the circumstances.

One of the guests was Lacerta's much younger sister, who was seated by a window near one end of the table. She was a young woman named Morgance Black, even though some would argue that at 19 years, she wasn't completely a woman yet. Nevertheless, she was very beautiful, with a curtain of velvety black hair that reached down to her waist, streaked all throughout with brilliant flashes of gold. While used to be called "skinny" back in her school days, the more flattering term "slender" would better describe her now. In addition, she was tall and graceful, and well-dressed in a set of gold-seamed, black witch-robes that complemented her pale complexion. Her chocolate-brown eyes were remarkably brilliant and sparkling, fringed with a row of dramatically long lashes.

Morgance was holding two-year old Meghan Wolf, her goddaughter and Lacerta's remaining daughter, in her arms. The little girl was wearing a royal blue velvet gown that Morgance had lovingly stitched for her, and her pale, angelic face was framed with dark curls. The child's blue eyes sparkled in the same curious way as did Morgance's eyes, but her disposition was not nearly as pleasing as her innocent appearance.

Meghan had been a very fussy and troublesome child for quite a while, to differ with the general cheerfulness of other toddlers. Instead of being a baby who happily enjoyed being the center of attention, she would sulkily turn her face away from those who fawned over her. Despite all the counseling and medicinal remedies sought by her mother from magical physicians, only the gentle rocking and coaxing from Morgance Black could ever cheer the girl or calm her down when she got upset. Nobody else could do anything, not even Meghan's own mother, and nobody quite knew why.

So, with no logical explanation, Meghan was sitting quietly on Morgance's lap, bearing that peculiar contemplative countenance that only small children have, while her aunt uneasily spoke to the other guests to break the silence that hung over the room.

"Please don't be sad," she implored, her voice calm and even. "I know that we are all greatly sorrowful about the deaths of Lily and James Potter, and I know that things will never be the same without them or the invaluable service they have given us."

The words were overly stiff and formal, and Morgance knew it, so she glanced at the young man beside her for help. He nodded for her to continue, but it was with more of resigned air than an encouraging one.

"I know that we will always miss them…" Morgance's eyes surveyed the sad faces in the room as she spoke, "But I think that we can manage to get by..."

Everyone in the room looked at her strangely, and she realized that her words were superfluous and utterly useless. Damn, it, damn it, _damn_ it, what the hell was she saying? She could see on all the other faces in the room that her words meant nothing, nothing at all, and there was nothing she could say that might mask the truth.

"That'll do, Morgance," the pale young man sitting next to her sighed. "I think you've done the best you can."

Morgance opened her mouth to protest, because it was always her habit to argue with people, especially when they told her what to do. But then she saw sadness in the man's watery brown eyes she promptly closed her mouth. Making sure that the child was calm and quiet, she handed it to the matronly redheaded woman sitting on her other side. Then she returned to the young man and lovingly wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Remus, please don't worry," Morgance whispered. But out of necessity she rested her head on the young man's shoulder and closed her eyes, as if she were seeking comfort from him instead of trying to give it.

"Worry?" Remus said, bitterly. "What is there to worry about? I've lost what there is to be lost. James Potter was one of my best friends, and now he is dead. It's a bit late for any worrying."

"Remus, Lily was one of my best friends too. You're not the only one who mourns."

Morgance ran her hand affectionately through the light brown hair that hung almost to his shoulders, and he took her other hand, her left hand, into his. It was on this hand that the violet-colored stone on Morgance's engagement ring twinkled at him, reminding him of the happiness that he had had only a matter of days before.

Three weeks ago he had asked her to marry him, and when she blushed and said that she would, he had counted it as one of the happiest moments of his life. He had then slipped the ring onto her finger and said that he would have liked to get her a better one, but that was all he could afford. And then she had laughed and told him that this was fine-better, in fact, than she ever could have hoped for. And she had kissed him on the lips, so that he forgot to tell her what was so special about the ring and why he had chosen it for her. Somehow, though, he suspected that she understood.

And he still wanted very much to marry her, but the loss of their two school friends had reminded him that death had a way of being all too close, even for people as young, healthy, and full of promise as they.

Remus gently stroked Morgance's hand and wondered if the future really held all that he had wanted out of it.

The past had been the best. He was not much more than a boy now, and school had been a mere few years ago. Back then, he had been a prefect, with the top grades in his class. Back then, he hadn't had to worry about the future. Back then, all his best friends had been alive and by his side.

Adventurous James Potter had been the leader of the pack, and now he was dead. Awkward, quiet Peter Pettigrew, the tagalong, had not shown up tonight. Sirius Black, James' closest friend, was not only missing, but had also failed in his assigned duty to protect James' family from harm.

"And Remus, you must _not_ worry about my cousin," Morgance coaxed, scarily seeming to read his mind. She was trying to be calm, but her voice was shaking. "I'm sure we'll find Sirius. I know…" A small tear formed at the corner of her eye. "I don't _think _that Sirius would ever…" She paused and swallowed. "…let anything go wrong."

Remus sharply turned to look at her; he knew that she had been about to say, "abandon the Potters". Of course, it was a preposterous thought that Sirius Black could ever betray the Potter family. It had been his job, as James' best friend, to protect them, and there was no way that he would ever let them down. But then again, how else could Lily and James Potter have been caught and murdered by the Dark Lord?

Remus decided not to consider it, because the issue was too complicated at the moment. More than that, he just didn't _want _to think about it…

Like a godsend, the uncomfortable silence was broken by Meghan's piercing screech.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Molly, I forgot her!" Morgance apologized, turning back to the redheaded woman.

"I don't know what is wrong with the little girl," Molly complained. "She was just fine a minute ago!"

As the child cried louder Molly continued: "I honestly don't know what is bothering her. She is _such_ a fussy little girl. You'd think that I would know how to deal with her, after having had six children myself!"

_And another one on the way,_ Morgance thought, eyeing the mother's swollen belly. In addition to being almost nine months pregnant, Molly had three sons ranging from five to school-age sitting at the table, mischievous three-year-old twin boys playing on their father's lap, and a one-year-old son who was in the arms of another guest, greedily soaking up the attention.

"Maybe girls are just different." Morgance smiled ruefully and reached over to reclaim her niece. After taking Meghan back into her arms, she rocked her and hummed softly.

Morgance's soothing voice calmed Meghan down almost instantly. She once again sat quiet and well-behaved on her aunt's lap, much to Molly's amazement.

"You don't even have any children," she marveled to Morgance. "How is it that you have such skill in caring for them?"

"I wouldn't call it skill." Morgance shrugged. "I think it's merely intuition. But whatever it is, the child trusts me, so I care for her often."

"How charming." Molly smiled.

She was a pretty woman, and young, despite all the children she had. She was also of the matronly sort, endowed with a kind and motherly look that fit her occupation. She glanced around, beaming at her husband and sons, all safe and sound. "We're all really fortunate, you know."

"Indeed we are," Morgance echoed. As she turned back to Remus, however, her face did not reflect the sentiment.

"It was a hell of a struggle, though," growled a voice from the other side of the room. It came from Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, an auror with grizzled gray hair, who had been most violently scarred from all his battles with Dark wizards. The war against Voldemort obviously _had_ been a struggle for him, noting that he was missing part of his nose and had the gaping, artificial eye for which he was nicknamed.

The eye was vivid and electric-blue, put there in place of the one he had lost in battle. It was a magical eye, of course, because it could not only see as a normal eye would, but it could also see through things, and see behind his head. "Constant Vigilance!" was Moody's favorite thing to say, and the eye let him live up to his word. He was a very paranoid person, after all, but all the beatings he had received in battle gave him quite a good reason to be that way.

"Quite so, Mr. Moody, quite so." Morgance nodded and affirmed the man's words, but she paled to see all his jagged scars. "Well, then, I think that we should all at least be content with the fact that the danger is over."

"Who cares about danger anymore?" Remus asked, hopelessly. "Who really cares about _anything_ anymore? Don't any of you realize that my two favorite friends from school both fought against You-Know-Who, and that one is dead and the other is missing?

Morgance turned back to the grieving man, her lip quivering.

"What about Peter?" she asked. "Don't you have him?"

"Peter?" Remus asked wearily.

"Peter Pettigrew," Morgance said shyly. "He was also involved in fighting, wasn't he? I don't know where he is now, but I don't think that he's dead…"

"Oh, Peter." Remus, nodded, remembering. "Of course. Well, I'm sure that he's not dead, but somehow I don't know that his presence would be as comforting as…" he waved his hand to indicate Sirius and James. "…the others." Remus turned to Morgance, eyebrows arched in suspicion. "Why did you ask about him?"

"Nothing, really. Nothing at all." Morgance's face flushed slightly. "It's just that I knew that he was part of that little group you had back at school with Sirius and James…" She swallowed. "You were all a really close group of friends, remember?"

"Yes…" Remus eyes drifted off, reminiscing. "I do remember. He was part of our group. I forget that sometimes, because he's seemed strangely distant lately. But there was a time when we had been closer friends." His mouth twisted into a wry sort of smile. "How do you remember all those things from back in school?"

"You'd be amazed at the things I remember, Remus," she quietly answered.

"You were always very clever, Morgance."

He sighed.

"And the same for my friends. James was clever, and Sirius is clever." Then he added, "Poor Peter never really was."

"And you…you still have me," Morgance reminded him with a quavering voice. "Remus, don't _I_ count as one of your friends?"

Remus paused and regarded Morgance with eyes that were sad and regretful, but at the same time, very loving.

"Morgance, you _are_ one of my friends, and you always will be- all that and more. In fact, you really are just about the best friend I have." He put both his arms around her shoulders and whispered, "Maybe the only best friend I have left."

As if she sensed what was coming, Molly Weasley once again took Morgance's niece into her lap, right before Morgance burst into tears against Remus' shoulder.

* * *

Outside the house, Vera was perched in the bushes, popping up every now and then to get a peek inside the windows. The curtains were closed except for one tiny crack, and when Vera peered through it, she could see a dining room lit with candles and filled with people. 

There was the young redheaded lady with the baby inside her, and several children at the table, interspersing all the adults.

_Those delicious children…_

And there was the grizzled auror who had almost, _almost _defeated her in battle, and the sad and old-looking woman whose young son and daughter were all she had left.

_To think that I nearly took _that_ away from her, too…I will tonight, for sure!_

And there-oh, lo and behold!-there was the greatest, her fiercest enemy, the only one who could truly hold her back, the one whose kindness and gentleness to children was unparalleled, but whose hatred for Vera was just as strong.

_Morgance Black is only a stupid young girl, but I am over fifty years old! And yet, the bitch can throw me out of a window!_

Vera seethed, recalling.

_And the one who looks old beyond her years is younger than I. She can stew in her grief to her dying day, because I have her daughter!_

Yes, it was true. Vera, by the powers of Voldemort, her Lord and Master, had become a vampire at the age of twenty. It was a transformation that had stolen the rose from her cheeks and frozen her youthful beauty in time. She could stare into a pond, and until the end of time, a beautiful young girl would stare back at her, safe from grasp of age.

It had been the end of existence in the living flesh for Vera, and the beginning of what was really death, the curse of preservation at the expense of human life.

Most of all, the transformation had also taken away her ability to have children.

_You are dead,_ her Master had told her. _All vampires of your kind are dead, and those who are dead are unable to create new life. You will never conceive a child._

It had not hurt her at first, for she did not like children. She had grown up with many of them, and upon learning how much more privileged they were than her, she had learned to hate them.

At first she would pleasurably kill the children of her Master's enemies, voraciously feasting on their blood without remorse or pity.

And then one night, she held a little girl in her arms, a baby that was supposed to die. The girl was the daughter of one of the guests inside the Wolf family's house.

But Vera had not been able to kill the baby. She didn't know why, but she thought that it had been something in the sadness of the child's brown eyes that wouldn't let her go any further. So she had set the baby safely down in her crib and fled.

Her Master had sadistically tormented her with the Cruciatus Curse to what seemed to be no end.

_You foul traitor! You good-for-nothing, filthy whore!_

Vera shivered.

_You treacherous wench! You dirty, slimy, rodent!_

And she had writhed on the ground, screaming, begging for mercy. And her Master's other servants stood around and watched. Nobody wanted to help her. Nobody dared to.

_Get up! Your disobedience is your infernal, womanish desire for your own child!_ her Master had snarled to her after the physical torture was finally done. _You'll get your child, then, you frail, stupid woman! You'll get your child, _one_ child, and be back in my service again. After that, I will torture you to death if you disobey my orders again! But first, I will take your child and drown it in a lake. You will see it die and hear its screams for help, but you, its own mother, will be able to do nothing about it!"_

Vera whimpered at the memory. Oh, how sad it was to be able to die like a human, but be unable really to live! And how sad to yield to the weakness of affection, how pitiful to be ruled more strongly by the eyes of a helpless child than by the power of the mightiest and most evil wizard!

_Now, go seek out your child._ Her Master bowed his head in resignation.

It was at the Wolf family's household one night where she had found the child she had wanted. It was beautiful little raven-haired girl of seven, ruby-lipped and pale, like the fairy-tale princess Snow White. Vera had taken the girl into her arms and disappeared into the night with her, before the child would have a chance to wake and scream for her mother.

When the child did awaken, she found herself among Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters, without anybody she knew in sight. She had wailed and sobbed and thrashed on the ground, but no tantrum she threw could bring her safely back to her bed. Vera tried to rock her to sleep, but the child still carried on. So Voldemort ordered that the girl be frozen in time, held in still motion inside a crystal bubble, so that she would not fuss.

Vera had begged that this not be done, but when her Master did not relent, she grew used to the arrangement. Frozen in time, the girl, whom she had fondly named "Deirdre", would not fight or scream, but more importantly, she would not grow up.

So, from outside the crystal ball, Vera admired and loved her new daughter as often as she could. She would also be filled with envy, too, because the girl could always stay young and alive without having to feed off of other humans to pay the price.

Vera soon learned, however, that the girl was not granted to her by her Master out of love (for when did he love?) or real resignation. It had been granted so that he would have her weakness to hold over her, forcing her into submission.

_You _will_ see your child die the day you disobey me again! _

Not that Vera hadn't always been obedient, save for the instance of the sad-eyed baby. Now, however, her Master had an even stronger grip over her, holding her in the palm of his hand, making her ready to do all his bidding, whether she liked it or not. Never again could she turn against him, should it occur to her to do so.

But now he was gone. There was no reason why Vera should not rejoice, should not throw her hands up in the air and at last feel free!

And yet, as she pressed her forehead against the cold windowpane, she felt that something inside her was now decaying, even though her body had already been dead for years.


	5. Hope and Bitterness

The Wolf family's guests, aside from Mr. Moody and the numerous Weasley family members, included the Jordans, of whom Siobhan was one of Lily Potter's closest friends. She was sitting solemnly next to her husband Edwin and holding her three-year-old son on her lap.

The Macynski family also had their child with them, a straw-haired daughter of the same age. The Shields had their daughters, aged four and two. Also, the ruddy-faced, good-natured Longbottoms had their one-year-old son. Then there was six-year-old Trevor Wolf sitting between his mother and the elder Mrs. Longbottom, Mr. Longbottom's mother. With babies included, there were thirteen children at the Wolf household that night, plus the one that Molly Weasley was carrying.

Besides Morgance, Remus, and Mr. Moody, there were also two childless adults present that night. One was Chantal, a Frenchwoman seated quietly next to Lacerta, who spoke broken English and barely even knew the Potter family. Her white-blond ringlets of hair were pinned tightly to her head, and she was looking up, surveying the whole company. Most of the guests did not know who she was, but to all who inquired, Lacerta referred to her with a warm smile as "one of my most trusted and loyal friends".

Chantal was only eighteen years old. She had once lived in France with her mother, who was Lacerta's friend. When her mother was dying Lacerta had come to visit her, and when she was dead, Chantal went with Lacerta back to Ireland.

The other childless adult was Agatha May Burnell, a beautiful young woman with blond hair that reached past her shoulders. She was the missing Sirius Black's girlfriend and the late Lily Potter's best friend. She was seated next to Siobhan and had been looking at nobody, keeping her eyes to the ground, and not saying a word.

But now she was looking at Morgance, who was still sobbing uncontrollably on Remus' shoulder. Although Morgance was weeping silently, the emotional display was hard to ignore, and some of the adult guests averted their eyes for want of knowing what else to do.

Trevor was tugging at his mother's sleeves and asking, "Mum, why is Aunt Morgance crying?"

Agatha May was giving Remus a pleading look. He took the hint.

He got up and quietly informed Lacerta that he would be taking her sister to what he called "an unoccupied bedroom" where she could cry in peace without increasing the already stifling tension among the other guests. He did not mention that it would be the bedroom of Caitlin Rhianwen, the daughter that had been lost almost a year ago, but Lacerta understood. So he ignored the stares of everyone in the dining room as he took Morgance into his arms and led her out.

"Well." Lacerta breathed a sigh of relief when Remus and Morgance had left the room. She surveyed all the guests that remained. "Did someone speak earlier of hope?"

Nobody said anything.

"No one? Molly, did I not hear you say earlier that we were fortunate?"

Molly looked up shyly, still conscious of the toddler in her arms.

"Why, uh…I suppose I did," she admitted.

"Is it really true, then, that we are fortunate in the midst of a tragedy? Did anything good come out of the rumor proven true-that the Potter family was, in fact, murdered?"

It seemed to be more of a test than an innocent question. Molly answered nervously, in a small voice:

"I believe they said that the Potter boy lived."

Lacerta raised her thin eyebrows. "The Potter boy _lived,_ you say?"

"The newspapers said so. Not that the media is always right, but I don't think they would make up a thing like this."

"You don't _think_?"

"Well…I…" Molly stammered.

There was a sudden knock on the front door. Lacerta went over to answer it. When she opened the door, a splendid-looking wizard with flowing white hair, half-moon glasses, and a long, purple cloak stood before her.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Lacerta exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You said you couldn't come tonight!"

"I didn't think I could, Mrs. Wolf," Dumbledore replied. "But then I found out that I had to, for I have something of great importance to be telling you all."

"Well do come in, Professor," Lacerta insisted, leading the dignified-looking man by the arm. "Thank you very much for honoring us with your presence. I imagine that you are thirsty and will want a drink."

"I suppose that won't hurt," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "Thank you. And I also understand your sister is here tonight?"

"She is."

"May I speak to her, then?"

"Well, right now she's not in the best of conditions…" Lacerta's voice faltered. "But she'll come around soon. Why don't you have a seat with the others, in the meantime?"

Such was the general respect for the old man that when Lacerta ushered him into the dining room all the adult guests stood up, as did young Trevor at the elder Mrs. Longbottom's chiding. Dumbledore was immediately offered a seat, and Lacerta ladled iced pumpkin juice into everyone's goblets.

"What is it that you wanted to tell us, Professor?" Lacerta asked worriedly when she was done serving everybody. "Aren't the things written in the papers true? Hasn't You-Know-Who been defeated?"

"The good news is that he _has_ been defeated," Dumbledore assured her. A general murmur of relief washed around the room. "Not that it would hurt for you to say his real name."

The guests tensed up; Lacerta's face paled.

"I think I would rather not."

"Very well, then," Dumbledore sighed. "Although I think you would all find it very liberating. Well, the good news is that what the papers say on this matter is true."

All the other adults sighed in relief.

"Unfortunately," he continued, "That is also the bad news. While it is true that You-Know-Who, if you will, seems to have been defeated, it is also true that Lily and James Potter have died as well."

Agatha May looked down, quietly swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Thankfully, though, it is also true that young Harry Potter lived. He is one year old and in perfectly healthy condition, despite his exposure to…what happened to his parents."

"He's an orphan, though," Mrs. Shield said sadly, eying her young daughters. "The poor boy doesn't even have parents anymore."

"At least he will not grow up missing them." Dumbledore's icy blue eyes were softening.

"Can someone take him in?" the younger Mrs. Longbottom inquired hopefully. "My husband and I could raise him. It would not be too much of a burden, because we only have one child-"

"Or _I_ could take him," Molly interrupted. "We don't have that much money, but it's enough. And I have experience raising boys-"

"Maybe _I_ should," said Mrs. Shield. "We don't have a boy yet-"

"Well, what about me?" Agatha May cut in indignantly, speaking up for the first time that evening. "My boyfriend was James Potter's best friend, and when he and I get married, I know that we can take the best of care for him-"

"Silence." Dumbledore interrupted her plea, quietly but firmly. "Alice, Molly, Peggy, Miss Burnell…that cannot happen. I would be more than happy to let any of your families adopt this child, because I do not doubt that any of you lack the needed love and resources. But I have to give the child to his mother's relatives. We'll have Lily's sister take him in."

"But Professor Dumbledore, that's a big mistake!" Agatha May protested. "Sirius and I will have nothing except love for the child, but I don't think that Petunia Dursley will even care!"

"But, Miss Burnell-"

"Look, I know that Sirius and I are not married, but we'll _get_ married. We support ourselves and we'll happily support Harry, too. But Professor, I don't even think that Lily's sister will care for Harry. She is not a pleasant person, to put it mildly, and she didn't even celebrate when Harry was born!"

"I understand, Miss Burnell, but-"

"But Petunia never even _cared_ for Lily and her son! _She_ didn't witness to Lily's wedding; Sirius and I did. _We_ have been nothing but loyal, and Petunia has been nothing but neglectful!"

"Miss Burnell, I am familiar with your relationship with Lily, but I assure you that, for reasons unexplained, you cannot raise Harry Potter. Only his aunt can. _Yes_, I know," Dumbledore added severely to prevent another interruption, "Petunia's family isn't even magical. But that does not matter, because young Harry will be accustomed to the magical world in good time, even if he is not raised there."

Agatha May was silent.

"I hope we have settled that, then." Dumbledore turned his eyes to Lacerta. "Now, Mrs. Wolf, while it is generally agreed that these circumstances are not the most favorable for the Potter boy, they must be accepted. It is at least good enough that he is alive, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Lacerta agreed, dutifully.

"In that case, as the lady of the house, would you be kind enough to lead a toast to celebrate our good fortune?"

Lacerta nodded and raised her glass. She cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "We all know why we are here tonight. We know that it is a great misfortune to lose Lily and James Potter, not only for their intrinsic worth to us, but also for their invaluable contributions to the fight against Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Everyone nodded in affirmation.

"But their death was not without a victory. This was because our powerful enemy was destroyed, and he was not strong enough to conquer this miraculous little boy, whose name will be forever remembered in our history."

Agatha May gazed up at Lacerta, her hazel eyes sparkling with unwept tears.

"Now repeat this with me: Long live Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

"Long live Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!" The guests loudly chorused back.

The air was filled with the musical sound of their crystal goblets clinking together.

* * *

Up in Caitlin Wolf's old room, Morgance was lying on the little bed, which had been made, but not changed after the girl's disappearance. The whole room was musty, with the door and window having seldom been opened since that awful night. There were dolls and old books set up on a shelf, covered with cobwebs and dust. 

Morgance's long, black-and-gold hair was beautifully spread over the pillow on which her head rested. She had stopped crying a while ago, and was now staring up at Remus, who was sitting next to her on the bed.

"That was very bad of me, wasn't it, Remus?" she asked.

"What was bad, Morgance?"

"Me crying like that." Morgance sniffed. "You must have been embarrassed."

"I was," Remus admitted. "Not because you were crying, really, but that everyone seemed to expect _me_ to do something about it."

"You shouldn't be surprised at that. You always seem to know what to do."

"I never said I was surprised," Remus said gently. "I suppose it's just because people expect me to take care of you." He kissed her on the forehead. "You are my fiancée, after all."

Morgance giggled.

"Morgance…" Remus' face became more serious now. "I know that everybody wishes they could cry like you did. We are all sad, and we only lost James and Lily very recently. I suppose we're just in the numbness stage right now. And we'll get over it, too, just like you did. I think many of us are too nervous and awkward to express emotion right now."

"Plus, their children might worry if they saw their parents cry," Morgance added, sitting up now. "I mean, I only saw my father cry once when he was alive, and it frightened me. He was always supposed to be this big, strong protector, and I didn't think that people cried when they were big and strong."

"I suppose you learn something new every day," Remus laughed ruefully.

Morgance crawled into Remus' lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek.

"Remus, don't you worry about getting over the numbness. If you ever cry about James, I'll hold you in my arms like this, the way you did to me."

"We'll see about that," Remus said grimly. "I never cry. I didn't even cry when my mother died."

"Oh, but I'm sure you will. I know you cared for James very much."

"That I did," Remus allowed, nodding. "That I did." He took her left hand in his right and fingered the violet stone on her finger, losing himself in thought.

"Morgance, why do you think we lose the things we value the most, and when we least expect it?"

"Is that a riddle?"

"No. It's just a question. I can't claim to know the answer myself. But I just don't realize why anybody would take away a man's best friend before he had a chance to say goodbye. "

"I don't know either." Morgance shrugged. "I don't think we'll ever know that."

"And it's not just the loss of my best friend." Remus took a deep breath. "James was Sirius' best friend, and he was Peter's best friend. And Lily had you, Agatha May, and Siobhan. And to top it off, James and Lily's son has lost both parents. Now, who would be heartless enough to take away two such valuable people?"

"You-Know-Who," Morgance said quietly. "Of course."

"Very true." Remus then fell silent, still fingering Morgance's ring. And then: "Do you know why I picked this out for you?"

"Because it's my middle name, of course." Morgance grinned. "Violet. It's the same reason why you sent me violets on Valentine's Day and my birthday, after you had graduated and I was still in school."

"Precisely." Then Remus' voice quickened, as did the stroke of his hand on hers. "Morgance, I am going to ask you for something a bit outrageous, but I think it's very important.

"Ask away."

"Well, then… can we get married?"

Morgance raised her eyebrows. "But we _are_ getting married."

"I mean soon. Tomorrow, actually, how about that?"

"Tomorrow!" Morgance was a little alarmed, but Remus could trace a hint of excitement in her voice. "That's a bit sudden, don't you think? I mean, didn't we plan to wait a few months…"

"Until tomorrow is long enough to wait, as far as I'm concerned. I cannot just keep letting the people I love best disappear from my life without warning. I mean, first my mother and your father die, and then your mother and sister go off and leave you here alone. As if that weren't enough, your older niece disappears without a trace, and now James and Lily Potter are dead when we thought they were perfectly safe. And to top it off, Sirius is missing, and it was his job to protect the Potters. And Peter is gone, too."

He paused.

"Morgance, I at least want to hang on to you if the other people I most dearly love have left my life. I feel as if we're that much safer if we can get married right away. So please…say you will."

"All right." Morgance gripped his hand tightly and stared deep into his eyes. "I will. We'll get married tomorrow, with Siobhan as my witness. Edwin Jordan can witness for you if the jury is still out on Sirius and Peter."

"Fine, that's just...fine. It all sounds good to me." It was amazing how little time it had taken for Remus' sorrow to change to desperateness.

_James always was a bit annoyed by my careful planning, my inhibitions, my lack of impulsiveness,_ Remus thought. _Consider it a tribute to you then, my dear old friend._

"Well then, I suppose we have that settled."

A few moments of peaceful silence ensued for the couple, and then somebody knocked at the door.

"I'll get that." Morgance clumsily scrambled off of Remus' lap and went over to open the door, limping. When the door was opened, she was greeted by the kindly, but solemn face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Why hello, Professor Dumbledore!" She extended her hand. "Imagine seeing you here tonight, of all places."

"Hello, Miss Black." Dumbledore shook her hand. "I come here to express my sorrow and offer my condolences for everyone's great loss. I know that it is in this house that James and Lily Potter's closest friends are gathered tonight."

"Of course." Morgance cracked a faint smile and tried to chase thoughts of her cousin out of her head.

"And hello to you, too, Mr. Lupin." Dumbledore gestured toward Remus sitting on the bed.

Remus stood up. "Good evening, Professor."

"Professor," Morgance cut in. "You needn't call us Miss Black and Mr. Lupin anymore. It's been at least two years since either of us has been in school, and you should be comfortable to call us by our first names. No need for formalities."

"Why do you still call me 'Professor', then?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Only out of respect."

"Very well, then, Morgance, I'm flattered." Dumbledore stepped into the room. "Now, you two know that the Potters had a young son named Harry, am I correct?"

"Yes," Remus replied. "We attended his christening."

"He's a darling baby," Morgance added, her eyes filled with adoration. "Is it true, the reports I hear that he lived?"

"Yes, Morgance, he is indeed the Boy Who Lived. And, after being aware of his close encounter with Voldemort…"

Morgance drew in a sharp breath and exchanged nervous glances with Remus.

"Or, if you prefer, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…you can be quite sure that we are going to care for little Harry the best way we can."

"Remus and I can adopt Harry," Morgance piped up excitedly. "Why, we're getting married tomorrow, you know, and I just got a raise at work-"

"You're getting married tomorrow?" Dumbledore seemed a bit taken aback. "So soon after Lily and James-"

"We're not disrespecting their memory by marrying right away," Morgance explained. "We have special reasons to get our relationship legalized in a hurry."

"I see."

"_Not_ that we're expecting or anything," Morgance added quickly. "There are other reasons. I just wanted to make it clear that our relationship will be legal, and that we're not wanting for anything financially.

"I'm not doing so terribly with money myself," Remus added hopefully. "I work long hours, and my job pays well for them. And I can hope for a promotion soon."

"Well, congratulations on your marriage and financial prospects. However, I'm sorry to say that you cannot adopt Harry." Dumbledore shook his head. "Before you two, four people in this household tonight volunteered to do the same thing…but they can't. Young Harry must only live with his mother's sister."

"But why?"

"Remus, I cannot explain right now. I can only assure you that he will be cared for in the best way possible."

"I don't like that Petunia Dursley," Morgance sniffed. "She was never nice to anybody, not even to Lily."

"And you are not the first of Lily's friends to say that," said Dumbledore. "But I assure you, we in charge of this know what we're doing. Please trust me."

Morgance nodded. "All right. I've never doubted you in the past, Professor."

"And you have no need to doubt me now, Morgance," Dumbledore assured her. "Now, Remus, would you kindly go back downstairs and join Lacerta's other guests? I need to speak to Morgance alone for a few minutes."

* * *

The vampire was perched outside the bedroom, window, seething. A peek through the blinds had given her a view of many things she hated. 

It was the bedroom into which she had broken to claim her daughter. And now that Voldemort was dead, his followers only laughed and hissed and spit on her when she pleaded to know where the girl was. It was not within Vera's power to take the girl by her own volition, but she had to wait like a small child or a dog for the mere reward of even seeing her. Any reminder of what she could not have made her ache, and she cursed the day that she had rejoiced to pick out a child of her own.

And then there was her sworn enemy in the room, with a lover running his hands through her hair. She longed to kill her enemy, but first slash the boy's neck open for every drop of his blood. She cackled to imagine Morgance screaming in horror as he was viciously murdered right before her eyes.

_Because no man ever loved me._ Vera had to admit it. _But didn't I deserve to be loved, at least at some point?_

She had only been a twelve-year-old girl with a pretty face when she thought her Master had loved her. Back then, he had only been Tom Riddle-a handsome and likeable sixteen-year-old with something inside him that was unmistakably dark and dangerous. It had frightened her, but at the same time she was incredibly fascinated.

She had never been qualified to attend Hogwarts as a student, but she had volunteered to work in the kitchens there. Tom Riddle had happened to her by accident, and she fell madly in love with him.

Her most vivid memories were of him visiting her in the kitchen late at night. She could still hear his soft voice whispering in her ear, and she could remember his full-mouthed kisses and how he treated her like a princess. It was like life in a cheap romance novel, but nothing had ever felt so real in her empty life.

Of course, Tom was not always kind. He had hit her, called her names, and been vile to her almost as often as he had been sweet. And after he transformed into her Master, he made her his lowly servant, but would not touch her.

_You are too dirty,_ he had snarled. _You were good enough for my youth, but you will never be good enough for me now!_

And the more he said it, the more Vera felt it was true.

And now the old man Dumbledore was inside the room with her sworn enemy. Vera had always hated him fiercely, even when she was just a little girl, just because she knew Tom had always hated him.

"He's just jealous because you're too good to be true," she had assured Tom one night when he had come to visit her in the kitchen. "He's a crazy old man, and you're going to be more powerful than him someday. You're probably even more powerful than him right now."

_Do you really think so?_ He was looking at her with sad eyes that always made her heart melt. _I just can't understand why the stupid old get would hate me!_

"He really is very stupid," Vera had agreed, repeating the words even now as she remembered them. "The man should be sent to St. Mungo's, because he doesn't even seem to be sane. You, on the other hand, are the most fascinating boy I've ever met."

_I always knew I could count on you. _The words never failed to bring a smile to Vera's face. _Yes, Dumbledore does seem to be getting rather senile lately. He said that it's not healthy for me to be visiting you so often, because you're so young. But…_ His voice faltered a bit. _But, I love you. Princess, I believe that you're the only one who understands me._ _And Dumbledore is not going to take you away from me, not if I can help it._ And then they kissed a few times.

Such moments had always made Vera feel powerful and protective, even though she suspected deep down that Tom was manipulating her. Sure enough, even she was not surprised when they got into a quarrel five minutes later and he blacked hereye. She had cried about it for an hour, but the next day he showed up with a smile on his face and a bouquet of red roses for his "Princess".

And now Vera remembered that when he had made her nose bleed once, the blood had been the same color as the flowers.

* * *

"I have serious business to discuss with you, Morgance," Dumbledore said gravely, once Remus had left the room. "It's about your niece and the other three girls." 

"Are the others all right?" Morgance was worried. "I know that at least my niece downstairs is safe."

"Safe, but troubled." Dumbledore nodded. "Overall, you have been a superb protector against the vampire who has sought their lives. But all the same, there have been repercussions."

"W-what are you talking about?" Morgance's heart started to beat rapidly. "I made sure that those girls were safe. I thought everything was just fine-"

"Morgance, are you absolutely sure that those 'vaccinations', as you call them, were a good idea?"

"Of course they were, Professor."

"Well, they were very risky."

"I know they were risky, Professor, but my reflexes are quick. You know how it works. I could have fended off the vampire woman before she even breathed on any of the girls, but I chose not to attack her until she got the smallest sip of blood."

"Morgance, don't you see? All of those girls are very troubled and fussy, even at the ages they are. Every survivor of a vampire attack undergoes trauma, no matter how young she is."

"Professor, I had no other choice." Morgance's eyes started to brim with new tears. "I only wanted the best. I didn't want to hurt anyone, I swear, but I felt that it was the best thing to do."

"Well, it was very dangerous. Any one of those girls could have been killed."

"But I made sure that they were not. You know that Vera has been protected by her master in such a way that although I can fight her, I cannot imprison or kill her."

"Morgance-"

"Of course, I _threatened_ to kill her. She's supposed to know that I can't, but when I give her a little bit of the Cruciatus, she…forgets. She knows I mean business. And it works very well, because I have every desire in the world to hurt her."

Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"Morgance, please do not be too liberal with that curse! Any ordinary person would go to Azkaban for life if they used it once, but you have used it in every attack against the vampire! I know that you have special privileges, but it is still not good-"

"I didn't have any real choice!" The tears started to spill out of Morgance's eyes. "Professor, this task is exhausting! I know that the Fidelius Charm is out of the question, because most of the people related to the families of these girls are not eligible to keep necessary secrets. They are people who have children, or who are already keeping secrets, or who are already in great danger against dark wizards. Remus and I would happily have been secret-keepers, but you insisted that this was the better option! And-" Morgance was weeping so hard now that she was hiccupping.

Dumbledore handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. "Please go on, if you think you can."

Morgance lowered her voice and rasped through her sobs.

"Professor, may I get this straight? This household is protecting part of that secret weapon. You say that it takes four families to do so, families who have at least one female child each. The real protection of each part of the weapon is bound to that child, and the weapon is safe as long as the child is safe. Am I correct so far?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That is the general idea, yes."

"Well, one of those girls is of my blood, and I know that is part of the reason why I was chosen to protect all four."

"Yes, that is true."

"I have to admit that at first I was honored to have been chosen for such an important task. And I really thought I could do it. You know that I turned seventeen a little over two years ago, and since then I have become an Animagus. I have also perfected my self-transportation abilities to the point that I can apparate to anywhere in the United Kingdom at a moment's notice."

"That's quite a feat for such a young witch." Dumbledore nodded, impressed.

"I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I didn't think that anyone but me could do the job, based on those qualifications alone. Now I don't even think _I_ can do it."

"If the vaccinations work out the way you intended them to, I'd say you've done fine thus far," Dumbledore assured her.

"But you see, it's not that easy."

"You knew when you took the job that it wouldn't be easy."

"But this is too much! I can't even sleep at night or be with Remus very much because I have to protect the girls. Even now they aren't safe, because it's not You-Know-Who attacking them, but a vampire who is probably still alive and after them!

"There was no other option. I had to let the vampire bite them each one time, even though it sickened me to do so. A person who survives an attack with this kind of vampire is always aware of its presence, should it ever strike again. The vampire cannot attack the same person another time without an instinctive warning."

"I know." Dumbledore seemed to be pondering this heavily. "So, all four girls will be warned when they are older, and possibly be able to protect themselves?"

"That is the idea. I've been studying vampires for years."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then, if you can keep up your act, the children are safe."

"Apparently, yes. Safe but troubled. If we can deal with their dispositions later, we're better off."

"If we can," Dumbledore echoed. "If we can. Now, Morgance, please do not lose hope. Now that Vol…er, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is out of power, I expect that the vampire woman will not be as strong."

"I sure hope not. I don't know how long I can keep this up."

"Do _not _give up." Dumbledore looked Morgance squarely in the eye. "I may not like some of your defense mechanisms, but I have put my utmost trust in you, so do whatever you have to do. You have my permission to take uncommon liberties. Just keep the vampire away from the children, away from the weapon. Can you do that?"

"I _will _do that. For love of my niece and the others, and for loyalty to our cause, I will do that."

"That is what I like to hear." The familiar twinkle was back in Dumbledore's blue eyes, and an unusually bright sparkle was shining in Morgance's brown ones. "Now, come downstairs with me and join the rest of the guests. I have to be leaving soon, but I want to leave you safely in the company of those you love."

Morgance followed her old headmaster out of the room. She turned the light out, plunging the view of the vampire outside into darkness.


	6. A New Devastation

The remainder of the evening passed in calm, or so it seemed at first. Morgance reappeared before the rest of the guests, eyes sparkling and tears dried. Dumbledore bid his farewell to everyone and promised that young Harry Potter would be well. After he was gone, the guests spoke more easily of what James and Lily Potter had been, and how they would be missed very much.

Meghan Wolf rested calmly in Morgance's arms and didn't make another disquieting sound. When she fell asleep, she allowed Lacerta to tuck her in without waking up to protest.

Alice Longbottom sighed with relief and said that it looked like hard times were to be ended for a while. It had been her greatest wish that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be destroyed so that all the magical children, including the ones present that night, could be raised in peace and safety.

Agatha May talked quietly to Siobhan, and they promised that they would still have each other and Morgance, even though Lily was gone.

Remus quietly wished James and Lily his blessings, wherever they might be, and he hoped that one day he might meet them again when the time was right.

And Morgance was cuddled up next to Remus, eyeing her engagement ring and savoring the promise of what tomorrow held. She had never dreamed that Lily might not be alive to witness the day.

One by one, or family by family, the guests stood up to leave, saying that it was getting late, and that it was time for their children to be getting to bed. Lacerta agreed and decided to send her own little son to bed, amid his howls of protest. She brought the guests their coats and wished them well as they left. They, in turn, thanked her for the wonderful evening and her tribute to the Potter family.

Finally, most of the guests were gone, the Wolf children were both in bed, and the Frenchwoman had retired to her room for the evening. Only Remus and Morgance now remained, after the former watched the latter exchange a heartfelt good-bye with Siobhan and Agatha May. Morgance had kissed Siobhan's young son good-bye and wished him the best as he grew up in a world without You-Know-Who.

"Thank you for all you have done," Remus said to Lacerta as he accepted his coat from her. He gave her a hearty handshake. "It will be a pleasure to have you as my new sister-in-law tomorrow."

"And I, on the other hand, cannot think of a brother-in-law more favorable than you," Lacerta returned, smiling. "I wish nothing but the best on you and my little sister."

Morgance and Lacerta hugged each other before the former slipped on her coat and stepped out into the cool night air.

"Just wait for me, Morgance," Remus called to her. "I'll be out in a minute, but first I would like to exchange a few private words with your sister."

Morgance nodded and shut the door.

Now alone, she stared up at the night sky, admiring the stars, and then felt a tug of pain at her heart as she remembered the absence of her two dead friends. She tried to convince herself that everything was all right, and that all her problems would be solved the next day, after she was securely married. But the stars kept looking so beautiful, and she realized that no matter how wonderful they looked, they would always shine down on a world with problems, a world without Lily and James. It had been in these recent weeks that she was sure that things could not get worse –and then they did. The Potters were dead, and there was nothing she could do about it, no matter what. For the third time that evening, a tear was sliding down her cheek.

Something rustled in the bushes, and a small voice called out her name.

"_Morgance._"

The sound was sinister, and it made her shudder. It was only in her imagination, surely. There was not cat or squirrel in the bushes that could make a sound like calling out her name. But what could, then?

"_Morga-ance._"

It was not in her imagination. She heard it that time, no mistaking it. She got the urge to scream and run away, but for some reason she did not act on it. Instead, she stood riveted to her position and merely turned around to acknowledge the mysterious voice. She mustered up her courage and spoke.

"Who's there? Come out and show yourself!"

* * *

"Lacerta, how do you do it?" 

She was puzzled. "How do I do what, Remus?"

"How do you deal with things? I mean, how do you keep such a calm head when tragedy strikes?"

"Why, I just…concentrate." She shrugged. "I just focus on what's important, and I forget about why I should be sad. Wait, no, I take that back. I can take my mind off of what bothers me, but I can't really forget."

"Well, it's just that…you're so cool whenever there's something wrong." Remus struggled to find the right words to say. "You don't seem to be shaken whenever there's a death or some other great loss. You just deal with what you have and hope for the best. It's as if you never worry."

"Never worry?" Lacerta laughed, and Remus sensed the slightest edge of contempt. "I worry a lot, actually. I worry that the children I have left will be safe. You know that I already lost one, don't you?"

Remus nodded.

"And I lost my husband, too, you remember?" Lacerta added. "Lily was lucky. She got to die without having to live and mourn for her James. Now, I know that what I just said sounds a tad bit suicidal, but it only goes to show that I do not go through troubles unscathed."

Remus nodded again, more uncomfortably this time.

"You see…" Lacerta paused. "You know how Morgance is, don't you? You saw her crying tonight. She's just like our mother. She is not afraid to express sorrow or show that she is upset and frustrated. She knows how she feels, and she does not keep it a secret. Well, I am different. I am like what our father was before he died. I keep my emotions inside, like he did, and when I feel I must express them, I do it in private. But it's not as if you don't see how I feel. Do you know what I am talking about?"

"No, Lacerta, I'm afraid I don't." Remus shook his head, but he was not entirely certain that it was true.

"Don't you see the lines on my face, Remus? And the gray in my hair? I am only sixteen years Morgance's senior, but I look even older. I know how tired my eyes are. I know that I am not as beautiful as I used to be."

"Oh, come now, Lacerta…"

"Don't try to deny it. _I_ know the truth. Morgance would cry herself bone-dry if she lost what I have lost. She would not keep what she feels to herself; she would tell it all to you. And that is why she will keep her young face much longer than I."

Remus was silent.

"So you see, Remus, I deal with my troubles very much. I just do it all in the privacy of my head and heart."

Remus nodded, a lump starting to form in his throat.

* * *

"You cannot escape me now, Morgance," Vera hissed, stepping forward, revealing the glowing snail shell she wore around her neck. "My Master may be gone, but I am here to finish you off, once and for all!" 

"No you won't, you evil murderer!" Morgance snarled. "You think you're so damn strong, just because you murdered a bunch of defenseless, innocent children?" She stepped closer to the vampire, and her face became menacing. "Do you _actually_ think that you scare me? Well, your master may have given you some power, but I have my _own_ magic, and I can take you on anytime and win…just as I have several times before!"

Vera uttered a shriek of anger that pierced into the night.

"We'll see about that, you little wench!"

She sprang forward, and before Morgance could move out of the way, Vera had tackled her to the ground. Morgance lay there, writhing and gagging, unable to move much while the assailant wrapped a pair of bony hands around her throat. After a brief struggle, she managed to yank on a lock of Vera's hair and run her nails like claws down the vampire's face.

* * *

"Lacerta, you must forgive us," Remus said humbly. "Your tendency not to express your emotions sometimes makes us forget that you have them. We mourn that we've lost our best friends, but we don't seem to remember that you lost a husband and a daughter." 

"It's quite understandable. I know that you all care about my losses. But Lily and James and all of you were only in the midst of your young years when this horrible tragedy occurred. That and an orphaned son are no small cause for grief."

"I know."

"So take care. Right now, the only thing I want is the safety that we finally seem to have secured after years of great worry. I want our children to live in peace and be the future of the magical community. And I want you and Morgance to enjoy a long and happy marriage."

"I'd like that, too."

"Go home, now, Remus." Lacerta gently pushedhim toward the door. "Tomorrow is a big day for you and my sister."

Remus opened the door, and then gasped at the sight that met his eyes.

He had expected to be greeted by the sight of a safe and sound Morgance, ready to go back home with him after a long evening. Instead, he found her wrestling in a death match with a thin girl who had drab black hair, a deformed ear, and the whitest skin he had ever seen.

"MORGANCE!" He shouted in disbelief while Lacerta stared at the scene in horror.

"Don't come any closer, either of you!" Morgance gasped. "She'll kill you if you touch her! Stay back and I'll...I'll finish her off…"

But Remus was not listening. Without hesitation, he jumped into the fight and tried to pull the vampire, kicking and screeching, off of his fiancee. Being a man of decent enough strength, he was amazed that such a skinny girl seemed to have the ability to put up a good fight with both him and Morgance at the same time. The three struggled on the ground, while Lacerta stood at the door, frozen with shock.

Vera threw Remus off her in time, and then focused back on her enemy. Morgance was so busy struggling against Vera's strong grip that she did not notice that the latter wasn't trying to bite her neck. Instead, she was holding the luminous shell around her own neck into Morgance's face, muttering a few inaudible incantations.

Morgance finally managed to loosen Vera's firm grip. Then she punched the vampire in the face and pushed her backward into the arms of Remus, who was able to pin her in place. When he did, Vera caused an excruciating, burning feeling, like an iron brand, wherever her body touched his. Remus writhed and cursed in pain, but he would not let Vera go.

But she had only one more thing to do. She held the glowing shell up to Morgance's face and uttered a final incantation, this time out loud and perfectly understandable:

_"CARPE MEAM INIMICAM MALAM!"_

Four jets of light were issued from the shell. They were colored red, yellow, green, and blue, and they wrapped around Morgance like luminous threads of lightning. She screamed and flailed her limbs about, but the ropes only clung tighter, and it seemed as if they would suffocate her.

"Morgance,_ no_!" Remus hollered. He shook Vera as vigorously as he could. "Let her go, you crazy, murdering vampire bitch, _let her go_!" Lacerta fainted at the sight, but Remus was conscious enough to watch in horror as his fiancée was sucked into the tiny shell, pulled in by the ropes of light.

Vera cackled when she beheld the fact that victory was hers, and once her struggling enemy had disappeared into the shell she wrenched herself out of Remus' arms. She sprinted off into the night, cackling and shrieking as she did, and Remus was too horrified by the whole experience to run after her. He just lay there weakly where he had been left, feeling more dead than alive.


	7. The Defense Lesson

A few years later, young Bill Weasley was at Hogwarts School, slouching over at his desk in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, absentmindedly sucking on a sugar quill. His red hair was messy and long, hanging almost to his neck. There wasn't a real school rule for boys regarding hair length, thank goodness, but Bill's hair raised Professor McGonagall's stern eyebrows all the same. It didn't help matters much that he also had a small stud in his left ear. That was all right with him; he liked the kind of attention it attracted from teachers. But right now, his attention was focused on only one thing.

"Surely you all remember that we have an important presentation on vampires today," his teacher announced to the class. "We have a special guest speaker who will be here shortly. In the meantime…"

No, Bill was not focused on the upcoming opportunity to learn about vampires. He was focused on Professor Hartmann, the new Defense teacher from Hungary. She was about 25 years old, with bushy brown hair, blue eyes, and blue robes to match them. She was wearing a turquoise necklace and bracelets with green beads. Bill could not help but notice that she was very good-looking.

She was writing words on the board in large, capital letters: "DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS WELCOMES MR. GILDEROY LOCKHART."

Bill sneered. Lockhart was nothing more to him than some kind of pretty-boy magical expert that his mother at home fancied. Bill personally thought thatthe manwas annoying. It could have been that Lockhart's nauseating, toothy grin won the "Most Charming Smile" award in the _Witch Weekly _magazine. Then again, it could also have been the fact that Lockhart's expected visit had brought a shy, blushing smile to Professor Hartmann's face.

Bill gritted his teeth and imagined punching the bloke in the face and knocking out every one of his charming, glittering-white teeth.

"Mr. Weasley, are you paying attention?" Professor Hartmann's eyes were narrowed at him.

"Yes, Professor, I'm paying attention."

"Well, what did I just say, then?"

"Uh…" Bill struggled to remember. "You said that Mr. Lockhart would be here soon to give a presentation on vampires."

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, and then I told you to get out some parchment so you could take notes. Do you have your parchment?"

"Uh, yes, Professor, I believe so." Bill started to rummage around in his schoolbag, turning his face away so the teacher couldn't see him blush.

"If everyone is ready, then, we won't have to-" But Professor Hartmann's words were interrupted then when the door swung open, revealing a vision of blue eyes, perfectly combed blond hair, and the two rows of gleaming teeth that had been praised by _Witch Weekly_. He self-assuredly stepped walked into the room as if he owned the place, carrying a large, leather suitcase with him.

"Why, hello, Mr. Lockhart!" Hartmann gushed, rushing over to meet him. "I could swear that you look even better in person than on camera! And isn't that saying something!" She enthusiastically grabbed his hand, the one that wasn't carrying the suitcase, and shook it. "We've all been waiting to meet you!"

"And it's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Hartmann. Sorry I'm a little late."

"Agnes," Hartmann corrected him. "You can call me Agnes."

"Agnes it is, then," Lockhart returned. "It's a lovely name for such a lovely young woman." He took Hartmann's hand into his own and kissed it. The girls in the class giggled. Bill just sneered.

"Class, where are your manners?" Hartmann had regained her teacher-like composure. "Won't you please stand up to welcome our special guest?"

Bill reluctantly stood up with the others, but he did not applaud with them. He was too busy with the mental image of wringing Lockhart's neck.

"Thank you, thank you very much." Lockhart put down his suitcase and bowed to the class, flashing a special smile at his female admirers. "I take it that you want to hear all about my experience with vampires, then?"

"Of course we do!" The blush was returning to Professor Hartmann's face, but she kept her tone even and diplomatic. "I thought it would be best if we heard a few words from an expert on this special area of Defense education."

_And I'm sure that's why you arranged this,_ Bill thought angrily. _To hear from an expert._

"In that case, you are one very lucky class!" Lockhart's voice was dripping out of his mouth in a honey-like way that Bill despised. "Rest assured, I should inform you all that you will never meet a better expert than me!"

A few female giggles sounded at this, and then the room fell silent.

"Now, as I was saying…oh, yes! Have I got a treat for you all today!" Lockhart fumbled with the buckles on is suitcase while he spoke. "I was journeying around Europe in my pursuit of knowledge about vampires, and I was able to secure a live –or should I say, dead- model for your educational viewing pleasure. I should warn you, though, this is not for the faint of heart, so if anyone feels that he or she cannot stand a gruesome sight, I am giving you the opportunity to leave this room at once…"

_Just get on with it!_ Bill rolled his eyes.

"No one, then? Well, we're all rather curious today, aren't we? Just don't say I didn't warn you." The suitcase fell open, revealing a large shape covered in black cloth. "Ladies and gentlemen, behold…this!"

Lockhart ceremoniously whipped off the cloth, and people gasped at what they saw underneath it. Bill himself was mildly impressed, but he tried not to show it.

It appeared to be a large birdcage with a dead woman stuffed inside. She seemed very old, with long, black hair interspersed with strands of gray. Her figure was very skinny, and her face was completely drained of color, making even Snow White look rosy.

"What do you think about this?" Lockhart said proudly, amid the oohs and ahs of the student. "In case you are wondering, this is a dead vampire of the most dangerous kind. You see, this vampire is a _vult mortus_-"

"Vultus mortis, actually," Professor Hartmann interrupted. "That's what it's called."

"Ah, yes!" Lockhart beamed at the teacher. "Sorry, that was a little mistake there. It's good that I have such a smart lady as your professor to guide me. You can tell she's a proud Ravenclaw!"

"I was in Gryffindor, actually," Professor Hartmann laughed. "But it doesn't matter. Just continue on with the lesson."

"Very well, Agnes. As I was saying, the _vultus mortis_ type of vampire is the most deadly. Some vampires will drink just a little bit of your blood and leave you alive, but this one…oh, this kind bites to kill. This kind of vampire is the only one that is truly dead when it is alive, because it manages to live on inside a body that has died in the transformation to become a vampire. Its dead form is what must be killed if you want to destroy this kind of vampire. As you can see…" Lockhart indicated the shriveled-looking creature. "This one is truly dead, dead for a second time. And don't think that it is an easy feat to kill a vampire like this. Once a person has assumed the dead form of a vampire, it is very hard to kill what it has become."

Lockhart paused to let his words have an effect.

"This vampire," he continued, "was being hunted down by the Ministry For Magic. It tried to attack certain families for the Dark wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in search of a secret weapon. It also killed many children of muggle-born witches and wizards.

"To top it off, its final victim was a gifted young woman who was specifically assigned the task of fighting the vampire. To this day, the woman remains unfound, and it is reckoned that the vampire feasted on her in private, instead of before her sister and her fiancé, who witnessed her kidnapping.

"But now, not even a shadow of its former horrific glory, this vampire is very deceased. It is actually suspected she lost her deadly powers soon after the demise of her master, who was the source of them. Kidnapping and killing her powerful last victim must have taken all of her remaining strength. As a result, she is now crammed in this cage like a taxidermist's masterpiece, and on display for your inquisitive young minds."

There was a buzz of fascinated chatter around the classroom.

"Any questions about this? Yes, you, young man, with the red hair."

"Yeah, I have a question about the vampire's ear," said Bill. "It looks funny."

"The ear? What are you talking about?" Lockhart peered over at his trophy specimen, "Oh, that! I never noticed that before! Well, you certainly have an eye for detail, don't you, young man?"

"Yeah, maybe I do." Bill tried to catch his teacher's eye and see if she was impressed at all.

"Yes, I believe this is what they were talking about, according to some information I have from the Ministry." Lockhart went on. "Apparently the girl had a birth defect while she was alive. In addition to that, the story is that she was also the only Squib in her pureblood family. An outcast status for her arose from that, and that must have been what drove her to seek an alliance with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She became a servant to this wizard, and he, in turn, transferred enough power to her to make her one of his deadliest assassins."

"Oo-o-oh," breathed a timid-looking girl sitting behind Bill.

"Well, in any case, she's dead now," Lockhart shrugged. "Maybe I should pack her up." He draped the black cloth back over the caged vampire and paused. "You know, they say she was very beautiful when she was alive, despite her ear. I suppose that was a very long time ago, wasn't it?"

A few students snickered.

"Which brings me to the subject of another type of vampire," Lockhart continued as he snapped his leather suitcase closed over the cloth-covered cage. "This one is not quite as deadly, but you must still be on your guard against it…"

* * *

The lesson had droned on for about an hour, but Bill had stopped paying attention after the grisly-looking vampire was packed up. He had not felt outwardly horrified about the dead, shriveled thing that he had seen in the cage. He did not even feel horror at Lockhart's casual relation of all the vampire's murderous acts. But all the same, there was something about the awful sight of that corpse that wouldn't leave him alone. It ate away at his mind for the rest of the day, and it troubled his mind in a way that he could never explain. 


	8. The Troubles of a Young Witch

More than eight years had passed since the strange and tragic disappearance of Morgance Black. Nobody could trace where she had gone, despite the fact that Vera had turned up dead, and eventually the Ministry For Magic stopped trying.

Lacerta's hair turned grayer and her face became even older. The Order of the Phoenix, of which Morgance had been one of the most valued aurors, mourned her as another tragic loss about which they could do nothing.

In the meantime, her young niece was not doing well.

Meghan Wolf was a troubled child at school -too shy and antisocial to talk to anyone, and therefore, nobody talked to her. It was just as well that none of the children befriended her, because if they did, they would know her hidden secrets.

Since Meghan had no school friends, she could be seen walking home by herself every weekday afternoon until she reached Rhona Avenue and disappeared under the tall maple trees that enshrouded her street.

The street and the girl seemed to be hidden from the world outside. And  
Meghan intended to keep it that way.

Even as young as she was, she wore dark makeup and all-black clothes to school every day. The other students avoided her, not even looking at her when they passed her in the hallway. Despite her good grades, the teachers eyed at her with disapproval. But that was not what bothered her.

This girl was different from her classmates in more than just her outward appearance, for she was a witch, endowed with magical abilities from the day of her birth. This was not what set her apart from the other children who lived near her. What did set her apart from the others was the necessity to keep her abilities hidden.

The world of witches and wizards is a discreet world, a hidden world, and is kept secret from the non-magic "muggles", lest they intrude into it and try to find magical solutions for all of their problems. Not everyone is born with magical abilities, but Meghan and several other people all over the world were not "everyone". Meghan was afraid to make friends with muggle children, because they might find out about the magical world to which she and her family belonged.

Meghan did have a friend who used to go to her school, even though the fact wasn't so widely known. The friend was Anna Macynski, a girl who was one year older. Anna had been a longtime friend, and Meghan had been delighted to move to England four years before to be closer to her. Before that, Meghan had been born in the United States, had moved to Scotland for a short while, and then had lived in Ireland since she was two years old. Therefore, her accent made her even sound different from the children at her school.

She never felt troubled when she was around Anna, not only because Anna was a close friend, but because she was magical, just like Meghan herself. So she never felt like she had anything to hide, and there were no problems.

In fact, she wasn't often unhappy during the day. It was at mostly at night when her problems began. Then she began to feel afraid.

It wasn't just at night, either, but on stormy nights, when the wind was howling outside like a ghost in agony, when the lightning was slicing up the sky, and when the thunder was sounding less like angels bowling in heaven than demons playing rugby in the pits of hell. On these nights Meghan would shut the window tightly and curl up in her bed, covering her ears against the thunder with her pillow until she could finally fall asleep. Or sometimes she was just afraid when it rained, because then there would be problems. And since it rained a lot in London, Meghan was often afraid to go to sleep.

It was then that the dreams would come.

In her sleep, she dreamed that she was wrapped up in a red haze that suffocated her so she couldn't breathe. She heard laughter, laughter that first sounded like a malicious sort of cackling, but then it grew so loud that it seemed more like somebody screaming. And somebody's hands were around her throat, and a dead-looking, dark-haired vampire was tearing Meghan's neck open and drinking her blood, draining the very life out of her…

The dream always ended with her kicking and screaming and thrashing on her bed, until someone in her family came in to calm her down. But the terror of her dreams overshadowed her nights long after the dreams themselves were done. She had been taken to a wizard healer for the recurring nightmares, but no special remedy could stop them from coming. And so they kept on coming for years, every time it rained outside.

That was the crux of why Meghan was so troubled. She was too embarrassed about the nightmares to tell anyone outside her family about them, except for Anna. If she told anyone else, she was afraid they would think of her as more freakish than she already seemed to be. So she spent much time alone.

Now that Anna had gone off to the Hogwarts, the boarding school for magical children, Meghan was more alone than ever. Even though she frequently exchanged letters with Anna, she was all the more anxious for the next school year, where she could join her friend in learning the secrets and skills of their magical abilities.

"When can_ I_ go to Hogwarts?" Meghan rather childishly asked her mother at the dinner table one night. "When can I see Anna again?"

"You will go to Hogwarts when you get your acceptance letter next summer," her mother told her. "You know the rules."

Meghan certainly did know the rules, but she never liked to wait too long for good things. Furthermore, she often got hopeless and worried that her letter might not come. She thought that people would forget to send her the long-awaited note of acceptance, and then she would never go to school with Anna or learn to do magic. Instead, she would be stuck for years at a school with the muggle children who did not like her.

At this time, Meghan's brother Trevor was in his fourth year at school, and every summer he would come back and tell Meghan more about the wonderful school and all the interesting things that happened there.

"You get sorted into one of four houses by this special talking hat," he had told her after his first year.

_A talking hat? _Although Meghan was somewhat accustomed to the unusual wonders of the magical world, she was ever learning something new about it.

"I was sorted into Hufflepuff," Trevor said. "The people on Dad's side of the family have always been there, as far as I hear." He hesitated, because he wasn't used to talking about his father, whom he little remembered. Then he said, "Maybe you'll go there, too."

That was all right as far as she knew, Meghan supposed. She didn't know what made people so suitable for four different houses, but she decided to ask her mother where she and her side of the family were sorted.

"Most of my family was in Slytherin," her mother had said when Meghan asked her. "It's a family tradition. But my father and I were in Ravenclaw."

Meghan then asked why her mother and grandfather weren't in the same house as the rest of her family, but her mother refused to say anything more.

Meghan's father's side of the family had been in Hufflepuff, but her father himself had not been there, as she had found out later. The reason wasn't spoken of very much in the family, but then again, her father was never mentioned much, either. In fact, Meghan knew very little about him. He had died sometime before the family moved to Ireland. However, Trevor had told her something about him one day.

"Dad was a Squib."

He then explained to Meghan that Squibs were people who had no magical ability, but were born into magical families.

"They can do magic about as well as a common muggle can," Trevor said. "Which is not at all. So they grow up and get muggle jobs, and live muggle lives. It's pitiful."

Although Meghan had shown signs of having magical ability in the past, she was not at all helped by this explanation of her father, and became more worried than ever that she would never go to magic school.

Tonight Trevor was gone, for he was happily away at Hogwarts, so it was just Meghan and her mother dining at the table, while Trevor' collie puppy Indiana lay at her feet, hoping to catch some fallen table scraps.

"What does Trevor do at school that is too difficult for me?" Meghan complained. "I can do magic, too. Yesterday I lifted a book from the coffee table at _will_."

Her mother paused, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and said, "Your brother works hard, and he has a lot of school work to do. Don't worry, you'll go to school soon enough and see all the things he does." She paused thoughtfully and said, "He plays on the Quidditch team really well, too. Maybe you'll do that when you get to school."

Quidditch. Meghan had forgotten that. Quidditch was a popular sport in the magic world played by two teams, each with seven players riding broomsticks. Three Chasers on each team would hit a red Quaffle ball around and try to toss it through the six hoops, which looked like bubble wands, set around the field. Each time the Quaffle went through the hoop, ten points were scored. Two Beaters would protect their own team members and assault the other team with a couple of black Bludgers, each slightly smaller than the Quaffle and capable of breaking bones. A Keeper would defend their team's hoops from the other team's Chasers. Finally, a Seeker would rush through the air to catch the speeding golden Snitch to end the game and win 150 points for her team.

The sport was dangerous and fun to Meghan, who had improvised the game with Trevor and Anna in the latter's backyard. Meghan was very good at the game. She had practiced it for years and had gotten a total of three broken bones, 27 bruises, and her nose bloodied six times. She had had no head injuries, though, for her mother had always insisted that she and Trevor wear helmets when they play. It seemed to be a wise idea. But Trevor told her that nobody wore them while playing at Hogwarts.

"We're tough. We play dirty," Trevor had bragged. He was very good at Quidditch. He had been a Beater in many a game against the other three houses, although Hufflepuff had never won the school Cup while he played.

Meghan was growing more anxious every day in her wait to be a Hogwarts student. Luckily though, the Christmas holidays were coming up, and Trevor and Anna would be home soon. She was happy to find that Anna's family would be coming over to her house for Christmas dinner. She missed Anna more than ever, not so much because the latter was away at magic school, but also because Trevor had reached an age where he was becoming very moody and irritable.

And now Anna was going to spend the holiday break with her! Life was about to get better. Something _good _would actually happen soon in the midst of all the confusion and nightmares and aspirations.

And so would something that would forever change her life.


	9. Reject

It was the last day of school before the Christmas holidays were to begin.

With only fifteen minutes to go until the bell rang that indicated early dismissal, many of the teachers at Sir Walter Raleigh Primary School had given up on trying to teach the students anything, realizing that they were just too giddy with anticipation of the holidays to learn. Instead, the children in Meghan's class passed the time exchanging little Christmas gifts and feverishly discussing their holiday plans.

"I'm going to hold a snowball fight at my house after school," a sturdy-looking boy named Willoughby Russell announced to a group of his friends, looking longingly out the window at the thick white blanket covering the school grounds.

"I'm going to go Christmas shopping this evening," Priscilla Dobson gloated to her best friends Belinda Curtis and Laurie Lyn Grace. "Then I'm going to finish packing for my family's trip to Paris-"

"You're going to Paris?" Belinda gasped. "Oh, how lovely!"

"I wish I could go, too," Laurie Lyn whined, curling her lip into a trademark pout which all the boys thought looked cute. "I hear it's such a pretty place…"

"Of course it's a pretty place," Priscilla yawned, trying to look fashionably bored. "I wish I could take you two with me. I suppose I'll just have to write, though. But don't worry." She tilted her head and said, "I'll bring you each a nice bottle of French perfume. It'll be just the kind that grown-ups wear."

"Oh, Priscilla!" the other girls cried out in unison.

"Oh, _shut up_," Meghan muttered under her breath. She was sitting just a few seats away from these girls, and it was a well-known fact that they, to whom Meghan bitterly referred as "the Furies", were her worst enemies in the school. They were all wealthy and pretty and popular and snobby, and Meghan had hated them from the moment she had first met them, back when she had started at this school. She hated the clique they had formed among themselves, the pink clothes and fake plastic jewelry they always wore, the fact that they were always giggling about boys, and their overall sense of superiority over everyone else in the school. When the Furies walked together, they held their noses in the air, daring anyone even to approach them.

Meghan seemed to be the only girl in the form who wasn't in admiration of them, and that was the main reason why they hated her as much as she hated them.

Meghan wasn't an heiress to an ample family fortune like Priscilla was, but she had inherited a razor-sharp temper, which she lashed out at anyone who dared to bother her at school. If anyone made a taunting remark to her, he or she would find an unexplained assortment of ants, grasshoppers, and other insects in his or her lunchbox the next day. This often led to fistfights after school, and Meghan had participated in a total of fourteen of them in the past two years. She always held her own in them even if she didn't quite win, for she had had much practice at biting, kicking, scratching, and punching in the fighting of earlier days, before Trevor had set off for magic school. As a result, most of the children had learned to leave her alone.

However, the Furies were different. They didn't care for fist-fighting, but they were more than happy to trip Meghan in the hallway or tie her shoelaces together at any given time. It was their favorite hobby frequently to harass her to fuel their ever-expanding superiority complex. Meghan, on the other hand, would return any such insult with a nasty prank, such as sticking a few chewed-up wads of bubble gum in Laurie Lyn's long, blond hair. That was only a couple of weeks ago, too, Meghan recalled, grinning at the girl's new shorter hairstyle. No, it wasn't a very nice thing to do, but Laurie Lyn had planted a few raw eggs inside Meghan's school bag prior to that, so it seemed only fair to Meghan that she be entitled to a little revenge. Even now, she could feel her blood boil as she remembered how long it had taken her and her mother to clean the disgusting mess off of her books.

Today, however, she decided to focus on happier things, because it was Christmas. She looked out the window at the falling snow and traveled backwards in her memory. She was now three years old, going sledding for the first time with her cousins. The wind was blowing through her hair and she was giggling with joy at the snowflakes ticking her skin. Then she was five years old, wearing her new knit sweater. All her relatives were coming through the door, patting her on her head and saying all sorts of things to her:

"Meghan, you've grown up so much since I last saw you!" That was her mother's cousin.

"Thank you, Andromeda!" Meghan giggled.

"You have your grandmother's eyes, Meghan!" That was probably some maternal relative, although Meghan forgot which one it was.

"Meghan?"

"Hello, Narcissa," Meghan mumbled.

"Meghan Wolf!"

All of the sudden, Meghan snapped out of the memories she was reliving, and found herself back in the classroom, face to face with her teacher Mrs. Landry, a tired-looking, middle-aged woman with graying chestnut-colored hair.

"What?" Meghan said timidly, suspecting that she was in trouble.

"Stop muttering to yourself and get going!" Mrs. Landry scolded. "The bell has rung! School is out now!"

Meghan shook her head and took a glance at the classroom. Sure enough, the other students were pushing and shoving each other in a race to be the first one to get out the door. The Furies were hanging behind the others, slowly walking arm-in-arm, trying to be ladylike.

Meghan sighed in relief, grabbed her schoolbag, and gave Belinda a satisfying shove out of her way so she could race out the door like the others.

School was finally done for now! Two weeks of vacation to her were two weeks of not having to bother with lessons. Better yet, it was two weeks of not having to deal with the Furies. Meghan raced out of the school and into the parking lot, where all the other children were going home by bus or car. As she walked on the sidewalk to her house, she fantasized more about holiday fun. Two whole weeks...

"Hey there, Meghan Wolf!" A voice behind her called out from a crowd of other students.

Meghan spun around to find a tall boy with dark blond hair and beautiful brown eyes looking at her. His name was Alec Pope, and he was a very popular boy in Meghan's class. Also, he was just about the only one with whom she hadn't fought so far. The other girls at school all liked him and vied for a chance just to be able to talk to him. Meghan wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she had affections for him as well. She never talked to him, but she admired him from afar whenever she saw him in the school yard. She would even make up small fantasies in her head of them walking along in the woods, holding hands. Now this boy was talking to _her_ in the midst of a crowd of other students, and she could feel her hands getting clammy as she walked up to him.

"What do you want?" she cautiously asked.

Alec smiled, revealing a row of straight, white teeth, one of which was chipped.

"I have a Christmas present for you," he answered. Out of his pocket he pulled out a small, gilded gold box and handed it to her. "I've wanted to give this to you all day, but I wasn't sure when to do it."

"For me?" Meghan smiled faintly and accepted the gift, hardly believing that this could be true. Other students, including the Furies, were crowding around Alec, whispering and giggling, and speculating about what was happening between the two.

"Of course it's for you!" Alec laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "It's not much, but I'd like you to have it. I feel like I should talk to you more, since no one really does."

"Um..." Meghan bit her lip. As somewhat tactlessly as Alec's words had been chosen, few people at school had ever been this nice to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a surprise!" Alec good-naturedly insisted. "Just open it!"

It seemed odd that someone from school, much less a popular and good-looking boy like Alec, would approach Meghan out of nowhere and give her a gift. But then again, she supposed that everyone had a lucky day. The gift could be something nice, like a bracelet or a necklace, and Alec would tell her that he had liked her all along from afar, but had been too afraid to tell her. Then he would put his arm around her shoulders and tell everyone, with a special sneer toward the Furies, that Meghan Wolf was _his _girlfriend now, and that nobody could say or do anything mean to her from now on. She could see the Furies shrinking back, finally realizing that they had been tormenting the wrong girl for years. Then Alec would walk Meghan back home, holding her hand all the way. When they reached her house he would say good-bye, promising to see her again at school when the holidays were over. Then she would be the most popular girl there for having the best-looking boy by her side, and the Furies would be nothing. And she would tell Anna all about Alec, saying, "There's this muggle boyfriend I have, and he is _so_ nice and good-looking..."

_Maybe I'm not so ugly after all. Mother always did tell me I was pretty..._

_But then again, she was just being a mother._

And then again, maybe she was getting a bit ahead of herself. Maybe Alec just knew that she was obviously lonely, and was simply trying to cheer her up. Whatever the case was, Meghan figured that it wouldn't hurt to check out this gift.

She shrugged and carefully slid the gilded cover off the box. The next thing she was aware of was an explosion of bright pink goo. It was all over her clothes, her hair, and her face within a moment, and she screamed in shock. The box tumbled from her hands and onto the pavement while she pulled off her glasses, disgusted at the mess. Goo was now dripping off the frames and onto her school sweater.

The crowd that had formed around Alec was absolutely hysterical. Belinda was clinging onto Priscilla in a fit of laughter, and Laurie Lyn, who had an arm on Alec's shoulder, pointed at Meghan and shouted, "That one's for my hair!"

Meghan sneered at Laurie Lyn as she wiped the pink goo off her own face. It was stinging her eyes as it seeped behind her glasses, and through the sparse clean spaces on them, she saw Alec hollering and pointing at her, every bit of his charm gone.

Meghan pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and swiped it across her glasses. When the worst of the mess was cleaned off, she stormed off, ignoring the taunting of the other schoolchildren.

Then a malicious grin overtook Alec's face, and he sneered, "That's right, go home, you freak! Nobody wants goths like you around here! Go back to America or Ireland, or wherever the hell you came from, you ugly witch!"

The last three words were a magic charm.

Meghan dropped her books on the ground, calmly walked up to Alec, and grabbed him by his shirt collar.

"What did you call me?" she snarled quietly.

"I called you…" Alec's eyes held a glint of fear, but he kept his voice firm and taunting. "…an ugly witch."

Meghan's fist slammed into his face, knocking him backward into the crowd of students. Belinda screamed, and Priscilla and Laurie Lyn rushed to help him back up. Alec was on his feet again in an instant, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.

"I'll kill you!" he hollered. He rushed up to Meghan, rage glowing in his eyes. In the split second that Alec was right in front of her she swallowed, drew her fist, and prepared to swing again.

But before Alec could raise his hand to strike first, a sudden lightning-bolt sensation hit Meghan, knocking her over. She tumbled onto the pavement just in time to see Alec run straight into a flagpole, right behind where she herself had been standing just a moment ago. Alec yelped in pain and held onto his nose, where a new stream of blood was flowing out.

The onlookers were staring at the scene in awe and whispering, "What the…" and "How did she _do_ that?"

Meghan wasted no time. She gathered up her books and started to run away.

Alec was quicker. After wiping up his nose, he caught up with Meghan and grabbed her by the shoulder. When she spun around and her eyes met his rage-filled face, she saw that he wasn't handsome anymore; he actually looked ridiculous. Nothing about him had the sameeffect as it had a mere few minutes ago.

Then her vision was blurredwhen Alec snatched her glasses and threw them onto the ground.

"Now let's see what you can do without your four eyes, bitch!" he gasped, almost choking on his fury. "I'll beat you black and blue, I will…"

"Do it, Alec!" Laurie Lyn shouted from the group of bystanders. "I hope you put her in a hospital so we don't have to see her anymore!"

"She's such a reject!" Priscilla hissed.

"Re-ject," Belinda chanted."That ugly freak that no one likes is a re-ject, re-ject..."

"Re-ject, re-ject..." The word was spreading around the crowd in scattered chants.

Alec's fist slammed against the side of Meghan's face, and the crowd gasped. Willoughby Russell stepped forward and shouted, "Aw, come on Alec, you can't hit a girl like that!"

Alec ignored him and drew his fist back to swing again.

"Beat the reject 'til she's dead!" Laurie Lyn snarled. "She's not wanted here!"

Before Alec's second punch could hit her, Meghan shoved Alec backwards, onto the ground. Then she picked up a rock and hurled it at Laurie Lyn, hitting her squarely in the face.

"That's for eggs, bitch!"

Alec got back on his feet and lunged for Meghan once more. Thinking fast, Meghan quickly scanned the ground and found an empty glass bottle nearby. She picked it up by the neck and smashed the other end on the ground.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, holding the broken end of the bottle toward her attacker, who was now within a dangerously close proximity. "If you do, I… I'll cut you, I swear!" The sharp edges of the broken glass glinted threateningly at Alec, who slowly dropped his fists. He turned around, defeated, and stalked back to school friends.

"I'll get you back for this!" he called back to her, lamely.

Meghan snatched up her now-broken glasses and sprinted out of the schoolyard. This time, nobody dared to chase her. They simply watched her in a mix of hatred and awe as she ran to the protective shadow of Rhona Avenue as fast as her feet could take her.

* * *

_Does this remind anyone of Stephen King's_ Carrie_? That's what this chapter made _me _think of. Luckily, our heroine is destined for better things than psychokinetically waging revenge on her classmates by burning down the school building on Prom night. But what are they? (Here's a hint: she is not going to be stabbed in the back by her mother or anything twisted like that.) Read on..._


	10. An Unexpected Visitor

As soon as she entered the safety of her house, Meghan slammed the door behind her and locked it. She peered through the blinds of a nearby window, and then sighed in relief. Alec had not changed his mind about the fight and chased her home. Nevertheless, she set her broken bottle on the end table right next to the door, just in case she needed to use it on any unwelcome guest.

Then she ran upstairs to her room and collapsed on the bed, a sobbing, miserable mess. All her anticipation of Christmas happiness had been shattered in less than ten minutes. She had been hatefully rejected by the boy she liked, humiliated in front of the students in her form, harshly insulted, and now left in this empty house, alone and friendless, to cry away all the bitterness of the afternoon.

And cry she did for what felt like a million years, until Indiana heard it and jumped on her bed, whining and sniffing at her to see what was wrong.

When Meghan saw the puppy staring at her with his sympathetic brown eyes, she turned to a record player beside her, which she had borrowed earlier from her mother, and switched it on so that it played the somewhat subdued tones of Dave Brubeck's "Take Five." Then she pulled Indiana onto her lap and sobbed into his soft, warm fur, while Indiana himself chewed on Meghan's goo-stained sweater.

They stayed curled up like that for a long time, and while the record played its soft drum beats, saxophone notes, and piano chords, Meghan drifted off to sleep, wishing that she were miles away from all her problems.

She dreamed she was at her old home, a cottage on the coast of Ireland. She could smell the salty sea breeze and see all the mermaids at the bottom of the ocean. She had never really seen a mermaid before, but her mother had told her all about their lives under the water. Of course, they were just stories, but it was still very nice to think about it all…

_Wish I could just drown under the sea and go down to where the mermaids are, _she thought in her sleep. _Never have to see Alec or the Furies, never have to live all those rainy-day nightmares again, never have to deal with this life. Wish that whoever is trying to kill me in my dreams would just get it over with so I can finally have some peace…_

The doorbell rang downstairs, interrupting the visions of mermaids and the half-sane thoughts of suicide. Indiana jumped up with a start, raced down the stairs, and barked at whoever was behind the door.

"Easy, boy, I'll be down in a minute," Meghan grumbled, pulling herself back into the realm of reality. Half-asleep, she followed Indy's path to the front door and groped for the knob. Then the realization struck her of who the person on the other side might be. She snapped awake in an instant and instinctively snatched up the glass bottle on the end table. She brandished it with her left hand, grabbed the doorknob with her right, and prepared to attack if she saw Alec's sneering face on the other side of the door.

Meghan gripped onto the neck of the bottle and took a deep breath.

_Well, here goes nothing,_ she thought to herself, pulling the door open.

But the visitor wasn't Alec. It was a girl, a very familiar-looking girl, but it wasn't one of the Furies, or anyone else from school, for that matter. This girl was short and thin, with a smirking face, brown eyes, and straight, sand-colored hair that fell to her shoulders. Meghan's mouth fell open.

"_Anna?_" she gasped.


	11. The Comfort of Friendship

"Well, who'd you expect, smartass? Father Christmas?" Anna cackled for a second, and then her face darkened. "Meghan, why are you pointing that thing at me?"

Meghan realized that she was still brandishing the broken bottle and lowered her arm. The bottle slipped from her fingers and shattered on the ground as she broke into fresh tears and collapsed on the floor.

"Oh my Lord…" Anna bit her lip uncertainly.

Meghan continued sobbing, so Anna stepped into the house and closed the door. Amidst the broken glass she helped Meghan off the floor and to a nearby couch.

"Now get a hold of yourself," Anna snapped, dealing Meghan one of her usual scolding slaps on the face. "Will you stop crying and tell me what's wrong?"

Meghan choked on a few more sobs, but finally calmed down and began to describe the horrible encounter at school.

Anna sat silently through the whole narrative, her eyes growing wider and wider as the story progressed. When it was finished, her mouth was hanging open.

"Oh, come on, did they really do that to you? I don't believe it!"

"You_ have_ to believe it," Meghan affirmed, nodding. "I honestly swear that everything I just said to you really happened."

"Oh…well." Anna's mouth formed a tight-lipped smile. "At least you bloodied that one asshole's nose. And you hit that Grace girl in the face with a rock? Good." She patted Meghan reassuringly on the back. "Those stupid pricks deserved every bit of it, and then some. I'm actually glad that you did what you did, because it shows that people from magical families have guts."

"Magical families." Meghan wearily closed her eyes and leaned back on the couch. Suddenly, she sat back up with a start. "Anna, that reminds me! Do you remember when said that I got knocked onto the pavement, and Alec hit the flagpole instead of me?"

Anna nodded.

"Well…" Meghan leaned closer to Anna, as if to confide a secret. "Anna, I don't think that that was, well…you know…natural."

"Really?" Anna's eyes widened in curiosity and, after a moment of thought, she wondered aloud: "Do you really think it was…maybe…your _own _power?"

"Now don't jump to any conclusions," Meghan backpedaled. "I never actually said I thought that. Just because I fell, it doesn't mean that it's anything out of the ordinary. I could have just tripped…" Meghan paused. "It's just that I don't think I did."

"I don't think so, either," Anna said with a smile. "Do you realize what this means?"

"Anna…"

"It means that you're a real witch!" Anna cried out exuberantly. "Don't you get it? A _real_ person of magic!"

"Are you sure?" Meghan looked at her friend, a little worried. "Are you really, really certain?"

"Absolutely." Anna took Meghan's hands into her own. "Look."

Meghan looked down. "What?"

"Just look at this," Anna instructed, turning the palm of Meghan's right hand upward. "Do you see anything important here?"

Meghan shook her head and stared at her palm, wondering what the point was.

"Just think about all you've done with this hand," said Anna. "You used this hand to wield a glass bottle at an attacker and to throw a rock at some bimbo girl at your school, correct?"

Meghan nodded.

"That's pretty good for one hand." Anna contemplatively shook her head and said, "And to think if Alec and Lila Lyn ever thought to do that, too."

"_Laurie_ Lyn," Meghan corrected her.

Anna paid no attention to this.

"I'm sure those sorry saps could do what you did, if only they had the guts," she continued. "I don't think they ever would, either. But what if they did?"

Meghan shrugged, wondering what Anna was trying to tell her.

"If by some miracle they ever _did_ get these guts, well, that would be something," Anna commented. "And what would you have then, to compete with them?"

Before Meghan could give an answer, Anna provided it again and said, "You, my friend, have magical power. You were born with it, you have it, and it will always be a part of you.

Anna held onto Meghan's hand, stared the latter firmly in the eyes and continued: "You are linked by this ability to all those who came before you, who also had or have this ability. It was a part of them, and now it's a part of _you_. It will be your companion throughout your lifetime, and should you ever lose anyone or anything you hold special, it will still be with you. It will be with you when you are old, weak, sick, injured, unattractive, unloved, anything at all…it will still be there.

"It will always be what separates you from _them_…" Anna pointed out the window to indicate the muggles of the world outside, "and links you to _us_." She drew the pointing hand to her heart. "Even when you have nothing else left, your magic will still be inside you. _It will never leave you_."

As she whispered these words, Anna gripped onto Meghan's hand even more tightly than before, and then slowly released it when she was done speaking. After a moment of complete silence she said, "Well, what do you think?"

"That was…amazing, Anna, thanks," Meghan breathed, stumbling on her words. "I don't think I'll ever forget what you said. I really-"

"Then _don't_ forget it," Anna confidently interrupted, brushing some flyaway hair strands out of Meghan's face. "Whenever you think that all those stupid things outside, like mean boys, snippy teachers, and stupid, fat-assed headmistresses are getting in the way …just remember what I said. One day you'll rise above them all, I can guarantee it."

Meghan grinned.

"So don't you worry about the snotty, stuck-up kids at school," Anna concluded. "They aren't all that smart, while you, on the other hand, have more brains than they have money in their rich parents' bank accounts. And come to think of it, I don't rate that Alec Pope boy very much, anyway. He's just another useless pretty boy hanging around at school, waiting to come of age so he can work at his father's business. Seriously, I saw him there before I was enrolled at Hogwarts, and he's not nearly as good-looking as _my_ boyfriend. I mean, compared to _him_, Alec has the face of an ass."

Meghan covered her mouth and giggled. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Oh yes, I do. Like I said, he's not a bad-looking one, either. I didn't tell you that before, because we only had our first kiss right before we went back home for the holidays. That was just this morning, in fact. It's okay, though, because I didn't want to tell anyone else about it before I told you."

"I'm glad to hear it," Meghan said, feeling much better as each moment went by. "I must say, I was so distraught over that fight with Alec that I didn't even ask why you were here. I mean, I'm surprised that you're home so early. We weren't supposed to see each other until this evening."

"Well, that was the original plan." Anna shrugged. "Things changed, though. We were supposed to go to lunch before we came home and unpacked. But I insisted on coming here to see you right away and just unpacking later."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot!" Meghan slapped her forehead. "My mother must be at King's Cross right now!"

"She is," said Anna, "She's going to pick your brother up and then run a few errands before they come home."

"Well, then I suppose I have some time…" Meghan glanced over at the door, and her eyes opened wide in shock. "Oh my goodness! I have to sweep up the glass before they come back! How could I have forgotten?" She jumped up from the couch and went to the kitchen to look for the broom.

Anna smiled in satisfaction and called out to her, "And by the way, as far as my parents know, I am completely single. They think I'm too young to date. Understand? The conversation about my new boyfriend _never_ took place."

"What conversation?" Meghan innocently asked, reappearing in the kitchen doorway with the broom and a dustpan.

"Good girl. Now I'll help you sweep up the glass. Then let's get something to eat, because I am_ starving_. I skipped lunch to be with you, remember?"

"No problem. I'll make us some sandwiches, and you can tell me all about magic school."

The two girls cleaned up the broken glass in a hurry. As Meghan swept the shards into the dustpan, she felt deep inside her a growing sense of belonging and purpose.


	12. Awesome

Everything was going to be all right, Meghan supposed. After her mother and brother came home, there were two telephone calls. The first was an angry one from Mrs. Pope, to whom Alec apparently had come home crying when he related his side of the fight. ("He actually _cried_?" Anna marveled when she had heard about it. "What a pathetic loser!") Meghan, in turn, told her mother her side of the story, omitting the part about magically being knocked out of harm's way, because she felt uncomfortable in telling it. Anna vouched for it as wholeheartedly as if she had actually been present. Meghan's mother ended up giving Mrs. Pope a cool dismissal, with no apology.

The other call was from Laurie Lyn's father, who just as angrily gave his daughter's account of the incident. According to this story, Laurie Lyn and her friends had tried to wish Meghan a happy Christmas, but the latter had only responded with a violent and unprovoked physical attack. Both Alec and Laurie Lyn's stories contained gaping inconsistencies in their details, the biggest difference being that Alec had referred to the box of exploding pink goo as "an accident", while Laurie Lyn had not mentioned it at all. When Mrs. Wolf questioned Mr. Grace about it, he didn't seem to be aware of that would-be minor detail.

"Well, then, how do you explain the pink shit that's splattered all over my daughter's sweater?" Mrs. Wolf hollered over the phone. "Oh, do you want me to take it over there and _show_ it to you?"

A pause.

"Well, then, what the hell do you think your daughter's telling you? If she and her friends can't keep their goddamn prank toys to themselves, they should at least get their story straight!"

Another pause.

"Really, now? I heard a considerably different version of it from Alec Pope's mother! And I'm sorry, but if you want _me _to give a damn about _your_ daughter's precious hair, then _you_ should be the one to wipe a shitload of raw eggs off of _my_ daughter's schoolbooks for two hours! Good _day_, Mr. Grace!"

She slammed down the phone, muttered a few words to Meghan and Anna that "it's best to stay away from those spoiled little brats from now on," and stomped out of the room.

So, at least Meghan wasn't in trouble. She figured that she would be, considering the unusual use of coarse language over the phone, of which she had unmistakably heard every word. But her mother was well aware of the fact that Meghan didn't tend to start fights without strong provocation, and she also knew what kind of people went to school with her. Also, she realized that, despite Meghan's troubling eccentricities, she was a good girl overall, and so the incident was dismissed without another word. Meghan and Anna sighed in relief.

"So that's it, then." Anna shrugged. "Keep this up for the rest of the year, and you'll get off scot free!"

"I get admitted into Hogwarts, that is," Meghan reminded her. "I can't yet say that it'll be a guarantee."

"Don't worry, it's a guarantee." Anna patted her on the back. "I'm willing to bet 50 Galleons that you'll get that acceptance letter by the time you turn eleven."

"I can't wait to use that kind of money, let alone bet it!" Meghan laughed.

"Oh, you'll use it. Once the Ministry for Magic tells you that you're a real witch, I'm sure that you'll spend all the wizard gold your heart desires." Anna winked. "Not that you need them to tell you who you really are."

"Anna, what _you_ really are…is awesome."

"Yeah, that's what my boyfriend always says. So just consider this as an opportunity to enjoy your last school year at home."

"_Enjoy?_ Don't you know who goes to school with me?"

"Well, you can see your mum every day, and I can't."

"I'd rather see some real friends every day."

"Don't worry, you will."

Later, even Trevor came around, emerging from his adolescent grumpiness long enough to hear about the goo incident. Anna proudly related the story as Meghan had told it to her, adding little embellishments here and there.

"Alec Pope so_ stupid_," Trevor laughed when it was done. "I've seen him hanging around the street corners, thinking he's so cool because he smokes stolen cigarettes with his friends. He always was a toad-faced nancy boy."

Anna gasped and said that that reminded her of something. She dug deep into her skirt pockets and pulled out a handful of chocolate frogs, which she poured into Meghan's palms.

"I got these for you on the train ride home, so consider them to be your first taste of Hogwarts. You earned it today."

* * *

The next day, Anna got permission from her parents to go shopping with Meghan's family. She, Meghan, Trevor, and Mrs. Wolf all piled into the car the next morning and set off for the mall. It was a place somewhere outside of London, and Meghan couldn't help but wonder why they didn't just stay in the city to do their shopping. 

It was close to Christmas, and people were crowding the shops. Meghan and Anna nevertheless elbowed their way through the shoppers and headed for a bookstore, trying to find the latest comic books worth reading.

And that was when a curious thing happened.

Meghan was flipping through a _Spiderman_ comic book when Anna poked a thin elbow into her side.

"Meghan, look at that!"

"I _am_ looking," Meghan replied, still absorbed in the book.

"No, not that book!" Anna grabbed the sleeve of Meghan's coat and pointed. "That! See that boy over there?"

"What boy?"

"The one over there, with the black hair and glasses!" Anna covered her mouth in amazement. "And he has…oh my goodness, I know it's him! Meghan, he has a scar on his forehead! It's shaped like a lightning bolt, just as they said!"

"Anna, what on earth are you babbling about?"

"Oh, for crying out _loud_!" Anna hissed. "Don't they ever tell you anything about the magical world at home?"

"Why sure, they tell me all sorts of things, but-"

"That boy over there is Harry Potter!" Anna was getting excited by now. "Didn't anyone ever tell you about the Boy Who Lived?"

"Well, I suppose they did at some point, but-"

"Come on!" Anna grabbed Meghan's arm and pulled her toward the boy, who was practically on the other side of the store.

Indeed, he did have a curious-looking, zigzagged scar on his forehead, but Meghan saw no need for Anna's excitement. Personally, she thought the people associated with the boy attracted her attention more. There was a bony-looking woman with horsy teeth and dark hair next to him, searching through a rack of adventure novels. Next to her was another boy who appeared to be about the same age as the one with the scar, but that was where the similarities ended. The boy with the scar was thin, and the other boy was the fattest Meghan had ever seen. The former had strikingly green eyes, the latter's were an icy blue. The scarred boy had messy raven hair, while the other's was blond and neatly combed. And the first was wearing ragged old clothes, while the second's seemed brand new.

Something like a light bulb switched on inside Meghan's mind as her eyes traveled back to the thinner, sorrier-looking boy. She had never seen him before, but she remembered the stories her mother had told her when she was younger, and all of the sudden, she felt as if she knew him.

The fat blond boy was tugging at the bony woman's purse, hollering, "I want ice cream now! I want ice cream now!" so loudly that everyone in the shop could hear him. The scarred boy cringed in embarrassment, but the woman seemed less concerned.

"All right then, Popkin," she answered pleasantly. "Just give me a moment to find what I'm looking for, and then we'll go get you some ice cream."

"No, Mum! I want ice cream _now_!" The blond boy hollered and stamped his foot. The scarred boy covered his face with his hands, as if he wished the ground would crack open and swallow him up. Meghan pitied him, realizing that other customers were starting to stare. Even the cashier at the counter looked nervous.

But the woman still remained calm.

"Dinky Duddydums, this won't take long,"she cooed. "Don't you want Mummy to find you a good book today?"

"I don't _like _books!" the boy screamed. "They're a boring, stupid waste of time! I'd rather have ice cream!"

"All right, Diddydums, you'll get your ice cream!" The woman sighed and backed away from the books. "Harry, come along!"

But the boy with the scar did not move. He seemed to notice Meghan and Anna just as much as they noticed him.

"Hello," Anna squeaked.

"Hello, yourself." The boy looked puzzled. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Are you Harry Potter?" Anna asked meekly.

"Yeah, that's me." He adjusted his glasses. "How did you know? Do you go to my school or something?"

"No, I don't go to your school," Anna laughed. "But maybe someday you'll go to mine."

"Huh?"

"She can't explain right now," Meghan cut in quickly. "She's just heard of you before, and she's happy to meet you."

"My name's Anna Macynski, by the way."

"Well, nice to meet you, Anna." Harry extended his hand to her, and she shook it. "I don't know how you know me, though."

"Harry, you stupid boy!" The woman shouted. She turned her face to them so that Meghan could see it was rather plain. "Stop talking to those silly girls and get over here! We're going now!"

"Sorry about her." A scowl twisted Harry's mouth. "That's my aunt Petunia, and she doesn't like people whom she thinks are strange."

"There's nothing strange about us!" Anna seemed hurt, but at the same time, she was trying not to glance over at Meghan's crooked glasses, taped up from yesterday's fight, her dark makeup, and her spiked choker. "Well, at least it's not as if we bite or anything."

"Don't take it personally," Harry reassured her. "She thinks everyone who talks to me without shouting is strange."

"I'm sorry," Meghan mumbled. And she really did feel sorry for him, being so painfully encumbered by these weird people. "I take it that boy's your brother or something?"

"No, he's not _that_ closely related to me." Harry shuddered. "He's actually my cousin Dudley, but I live with him."

"I'm sorry," Meghan repeated.

"Well," Anna gushed, becoming visibly flustered. "I've heard so much about you…I mean, you seem really amazing, with all that you've been through-"

"What she means," Meghan interrupted quickly, "Is that it's really amazing what you seem to have to deal with." She indicated Dudley, who was still screaming at his mother. "I'd hate having to live with someone like that."

"Harry, get _going_!" Petunia screeched, lifting a few heavy shopping bags in his direction. "I need you to carry these!"

"Or _that_," Anna muttered under her breath.

"I do hate it," Harry said quietly. "And I'm glad that you understand. Thank you, Anna and, uh-"

"My name's Meghan Wolf."

"See you around, then." He waved the girls a quick good-bye as his aunt came over to drag him away.

"I don't think he knows it, but he _will _be seeing us around." Anna smiled and waved to Harry as he was whisked out of the store. "I hear it's just two more years before he starts at Hogwarts."

"_If_ he's not a Squib," Meghan reminded Anna.

"How in the world can he be a _Squib_?" Anna was incredulous. "Didn't anyone ever _tell_ you who he is? He's the only person ever to survive a Killing Curse, for crying out loud! That funny little scar is the only thing he has to show for an attack by You-Know-Who himself! There's no way he can do that without being magical." She stopped to think a bit. "Come to think of it, Squibs are a very rare thing. Your dad might have been one, Hogwarts' caretaker is one, and my boyfriend's mother's cousin is one, I think, but those are the only ones I know."

"True," Meghan agreed. "Squibs are rare. But getting back to that boy Harry Potter, don't you think you should have been more careful about how you talked to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it didn't appear that he knew how special he is. All I saw was some poor, hampered-looking kid with a mean aunt and a bratty cousin three times his size. We in the magical world know his amazing story, but something tells me that he himself doesn't."

"I'd forgotten that." The fascination crept back to Anna's voice. "I wasn't thinking; I was just so excited when I saw him that I wanted to run up to him and give him the biggest hug! Isn't that just awesome, knowing that _that's_ the Boy Who Lived?"

"Yeah, that's awesome," Meghan echoed. But she had a different, not-so-star-struck image in her mind. She remembered that the Boy Who Lived had been wearing glasses just like hers, except hers were square and his were round. His were even taped up, as well.

He even dressed almost like she did -drably, with grubby black jeans and a tattered T-shirt. His was overly large and uncared-for, though, while Meghan's old Fleetwood Mac shirt had merely been through the wash a few too many times.

She even wondered if the amazing Harry Potter ever got beaten up at school.

_Just like me._ Meghan grinned sheepishly. _Awesome._


	13. After Christmas

The Christmas holidays passed too quickly for Meghan's liking. All too soon, she found herself standing at platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross railway station, waving a farewell to Anna from a distance as the latter boarded the Hogwarts express.

* * *

They had spent Christmas Day together, along with some of Meghan's relatives (although she had forgotten how they were related). Augusta Longbottom and her grandson Neville, a round-faced little boy who was a year younger than Meghan, had come over for dinner. When Meghan opened the door for them, Neville was puffed out with pride, holding up a small toad in her face. 

"Look, I showed my first sign of being a wizard!" he babbled excitedly, forgetting even to say hello. "Great Uncle Algie bought me this toad because I'm _really _magical! I just don't know what to name it yet!"

Meghan smiled indulgently and led him and his grandmother into the house. By now, he was pouring out the whole story.

"Uncle Algie was hanging me by the ankles from the window upstairs, and when Auntie Enid offered him a meringue, he let go…and I _bounced_! I didn't die or get hurt, and now I _know_ I'm going to go to Hogwarts when I turn eleven!"

"That's nice." Meghan had smiled weakly, thinking that mentally levitating books seemed like small potatoes after hearing this story. Then again, what happened during the fight with Alec was another thing…

"The incident was months ago, and he's_ still_ talking about it to everyone he meets," Mrs. Longbottom had told Lacerta. "I know that this is probably the highlight of his young life, considering…well, you know."

Mrs. Longbottom's face darkened, and Meghan knew what she was talking about. As her mother had told her once, when Neville had been only a year old, his parents had literally been tortured to the point of insanity. It had been soon after the defeat of Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, by a few Death Eaters who were later imprisoned. Neville's parents were now permanent residents of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and he and his grandmother frequently visited them.

When Meghan's mother sensed a dark cloud about to form from Mrs. Longbottom's words, she quietly called Trevor to her side and told him to go play with Neville.

"Show him all your muggle military tanks and model planes," she whispered to her son. "Have him play with all those toy soldiers you have. I sense that little Neville is lonely and could use an older boy's influence in his life." Trevor understood and obeyed.

Apparently, the experience turned out to be good for Neville and bad for Trevor. When the Longbottoms left the house that evening, the toad had consumed a plastic piece of one of Trevor's model airplane kits, rendering the whole thing useless. Worse yet, Neville promised Trevor that he would make it up to him by declaring the toad his namesake.

Before Trevor could protest that that wasn't necessary, Mrs. Longbottom exclaimed, "What a lovely idea!"

Knowing the trouble Neville had about his parents, and how long it had taken him to prove his magical ability, Trevor decided that it would be best not to say anything more. He just nodded meekly and said, "All right."

Meghan was slapped upside the head by her disapproving mother when she and Anna had sniggered at the news.

* * *

The memory made her smile even as she thought about it here. Now, Anna in her school robe was hardly more than a skinny patch of black with a spot of sandy hair, boarding a train. As Meghan watched, that patch raised an arm into the air and waved good-bye. 

The wind whipped loose strands of dark hair into Meghan's face, and it was getting harder to see. She strained her eyes until the dot disappeared onto the train.

In a few minutes, a shrill whistle interrupted her thoughts. The train was moving. Meghan frantically tried to look through the windows, hoping to get a last glimpse of Anna before the train departed. She could not. Since she was unable to see any distinct person, she imagined that the scarlet steam engine was filled with happy young students, blissfully going back to continue a year of magical education.

The very thought caused her to salivate. She wondered what kind of friends her best friend had there, and what kind of boyfriend.

The train finally disappeared, leaving Meghan standing there alone. Anna was gone.


	14. Special Delivery

After the Christmas holidays, Meghan went back to school, but things did not improve much overall. While it was true that she was not Alec Pope's new girlfriend as she had previously fantasized, it was also true that he and the Furies had toned down their harassment of her from physical attacks to a mere few insults a day, uttered at a safe distance. Nobody else bothered her at all.

Meghan walked home in peace every day, because nothing that any of her enemies said could hurt her now. At least it couldn't do anything to her that hadn't already been done. Maybe Anna's words about her special powers had really sunk in.

At any rate, she kept to herself at school and seemed content with her life as it was.

"Meghan Wolf is just like that one girl, Allison Reynolds, from _The Breakfast Club_," one of the younger teachers whispered to Mrs. Landry.

"Well, look at the bright side." Mrs. Landry grimaced. "At she doesn't shed a bunch of dandruff all over her art pictures."

"Not on purpose, anyway."

Meanwhile, the weather only got worse. After the snow melted, there was nothing but rain, rain, rain for weeks, in Meghan's opinion. She was falling asleep in school because she was making a concentrated effort not to sleep at night. Her forced insomnia wasn't just to avoid her nightmares themselves, but also to keep her mother from having to wake her up from them. Meghan knew that when she dreamed her mother worried about her more than usual, and her hair turned grayer than it already was.

It seemed that there was only one solution. Meghan realized that, as terrified and helpless as she felt in her dreams, she had acquired a feeling of immunity when she was awake. It was something she figured many suicidal people had, a feeling that there was nothing to be lost from taking any risks.

She was afraid of no risk. It meant nothing to her to go up to the older kids who hung out in the schoolyard after dark and buy a few cigarettes from them. After the trade was made, she pocketed her purchases and went home.

Whenever it rained during the night, when her mother was asleep, she would creep out of the house and stroll down the sidewalk, looking to any rare passer-by as blank and hollow as a ghost. Then she would lean against the sycamore tree at the corner, light one of her cigarettes, and smoke until the sickly yellow light in the old lamppost died.

But when there was thunder she didn't lean on the tree. Instead, she stepped out into the middle of the street and sent a few puffs of smoke up toward the lightning, like spitting in someone's face. It was her way of fooling herself into believing that she wasn't afraid.

It was her private victory, but she boasted it outside in public, like a madwoman. When she was asleep she could almost die, but when she was awake, it was as if she could fight and win. The irony was that imagined danger was what coupled with her fear, and for that she was substituting real danger as the price of fearlessness. The lightning could strike her, but she laughed at it anyway. Maybe it never did strike because her ambiguous magical powers protected her, but all the same, she felt free. She danced in the rainstorm until her clothes were soaked, reveling in her release.

After the storm died down, she put out her cigarette and crept back into the house without a sound. Although she was tired when her mother woke her up in the morning, she gave no other indication of what had happened outside. She covered herself completely up with a blanket to hide the fact that she was drenched, and she was careful to keep her mouth closed around her mother to conceal the fact that she had been smoking. Although getting wet often resulted in colds, Meghan decided that it was all to the good, because getting sick kept her from having to go to school. Her "midnight strolls" were something that she kept only to herself, a secret which even Anna didn't know.

* * *

Eventually, things started to change. As springtime drifted over London, the weather warmed up, and so did Meghan's spirits. It was finally starting to rain less often. She was still able to use her mind to levitate books from tables, as she had told her mother that she could. Better yet, Anna and Trevor would be returning from school for the summer in about a month, thus completing a long year of boredom and loneliness. 

But that wasn't the end of the excitement.

One afternoon, the school headmistress called Meghan down to her office right before lunch to receive an important call from her mother. Thinking that there was an emergency at home, or that the private stash of cigarettes in her raincoat had been discovered, Meghan wasted no time in sprinting to the office to hear the news. She got a detention from a grumpy teacher for running in the hallway and a disapproving look from the headmistress when she arrived.

The headmistress was an unpleasant-looking woman of about fifty named Miss Owens, whom everyone called "Slim" to mock her extremely large size ("probably, like, thirty stone, at least," Willoughby Russell had once estimated). To Meghan, she seemed like an elephant painfully stuffed into an obnoxiously bright blue suit. Her gray hair was pompously piled at the top of her head, apparently the result of a bad permanent. There was a large mole at the end of her wrinkled nose that served as a focal point to a face that was doughy and plain. Not a bit of the woman's appearance was agreeable to Meghan, least of all her glaring, beady eyes.

_Does Violet Beauregard know that you raided her wardrobe?_ She thought angrily to the headmistress. Of course, she didn't say it.

"Y-you sent for me," she stammered.

"You're mother is on the telephone," Miss Owens stated coldly. Meghan quickly snatched the receiver that the grumpy headmistress was holding out to her.

"Hello, Mum?"

"Meghan!" Her mother exclaimed. "You just received a very important delivery at home!" She sounded strangely excited.

"Mum, _what_ on earth could be so important to me as to interrupt my classes? I was learning some really excellent things in maths…" Out of the corner of her eye, Meghan glanced at Miss Owens, who was glaring back at her. Obviously, Meghan was not getting on the headmistress' good side with her talk.

"Meghan, this is very important!" her mother snapped.

"Well, what _is_ it, then?" Meghan asked impatiently.

"I cannot tell you everything now. I only called to warn you to come _directly_ home after school. Do not stop to chat with your friends or anything else. Just come straight home!"

"Is that all?"

"That's all I can tell you now. This is private business, and there might be too many ears listening. You'll find out the rest when school is out. But come _straight_ home!"

"Is there _anything_ else, Mum?" Meghan growled, now thoroughly irritated.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I want you to promise me that you will come home as soon as school is finished!"

"All right, Mum! I promise."

"Good-bye, then."

Then there was a click at the other end of the line. Meghan sighed dejectedly and placed the receiver back in the cradle. At least there was no emergency, but she was still very curious. This "important delivery" must have been quite special if it made her mother too excited to forget that Meghan had no school friends.

"Doesn't your mother care about the way you dress for school, young lady?" Miss Owens was still glaring at Meghan with contempt.

_Bite me._

"The way I dress?" Meghan replied innocently. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, _what am I talking about_?" Miss Owens snarled. "Your clothes are rumpled, and you are wearing _black_ lipstick! Doesn't your mother have any objections to that?"

Indeed Meghan's mother had had some objections to the way her daughter liked to dress, but somehow it didn't seem to matter as much to her. Meghan defied all objections, anyway, and still wore the things she wanted to school every day.

So Meghan looked the headmistress straight in the eye and said, "My lipstick isn't black. It is _aubergine_. And _my_ mother has more important things to worry about than my clothes and makeup." And, seeing the headmistress' gaping mole, her fatty triple chin, and that her lipstick was a rather horrifyingly bright pink, Meghan thought: _Not that there aren't worse things than black lipstick, you ugly, mole-faced toad. Why don't you go and ponder that over a Slim-Quick shake?_ Once again, it was something that she didn't say out loud.

But she might as well have said it, for what the latter's reaction was.

"Don't you speak to me that way, you nasty little girl!" Miss Owens growled. "Five more after-school detentions should teach you a thing or two about respect for your superiors! Now get back to class!"

Meghan obeyed, but she was no longer especially frightened by the headmistress or any other authority figure in the school. It seemed that Anna's words of encouragement, which rang in her ears even now, had built up a sense of invincibility.

Meghan spent the rest of the day in suspense. She picked at her lunch, and her mind, instead of being in her afternoon classes, was wandering instead on this important delivery that her mother had for her. Was it something from Anna? No, it couldn't be. If it were from Anna, there would not have been a reason to call about it while Meghan was in school. But who else would have bothered to send her anything? After all, she had no other friends.

When the bell rang to dismiss the children from school, Meghan dashed out of the school building, and then bounded through the streets to her house on Rhona Avenue.

She burst in through the door, and her mother greeted her by placing a cup of tea at her place on the dining table.

Meghan nervously sat down and sipped the tea, noticing that Mercury, the family messenger owl, was standing on the table right across from her. He was munching on a couple of owl treats and staring pointedly at Meghan. She reached over and petted him on his gray, feathered head.

"Hey, boy. Long time, no see."

Mercury tilted his head, as if to greet her back. Indiana bolted into the room out of nowhere, giving Meghan the usual sniffing inspection to see if she had anything good for him to eat.

"Go away, Mr. Woofies," she chastised him. "There's nothing for puppies here."

Her mother tossed her an envelope, which she caught in midair.

"Mercury delivered this when he came by," her mother said simply, although she was conspicuously restraining some excitement.

Meghan ripped the envelope open and read the slip of paper inside:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

"Mum…" Meghan drew in a sharp breath. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and her voice was rising with excitement. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Read on," her mother urged.

_Dear Miss Wolf,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than June 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, _

_Deputy Headmistress_

"I've got it!" Meghan shrieked with delight. "I've really got it! I'm really magical, Mother!"

"And I've been waiting for this day for years!" Meghan's mother clasped her hands together, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. "My youngest is finally going off to Hogwarts!"

"And I didn't even think I could make it!" Meghan sighed.

"Well, you should have." Her mother smiled ruefully. "Don't you remember that you have a birthday in a few days?"

Something cold wrenched Meghan's stomach at these words.

"Um…I do?" she croaked in a faint voice.

"Don't give me that!" Her mother teasingly jabbed her on the shoulder. "You look forward to your birthday every year, and you've never forgotten it since you were four years old. Do you expect me to believe that you don't remember your own birthday now, especially since this is _the_ special year?"

"Of course not, Mum." Meghan laughed uneasily. "I was just joking. No one would really forget their own birthday."

The truth was that she had, and for the first time in her life, as far as she could remember. She had actually been so busy in battling her lonely days and sleepless nights that she couldn't even think about it.

"Now, don't you plan to tell Anna about this?"

Meghan looked up at her mother and smiled.

"That's right -I've got to owl Anna about it." She made a show of searching around for some parchment and a quill pen, grateful that her mother had not caught on to the telltale quaver in her voice.

* * *

For several years, Meghan had been content with having only Anna for a friend, but for the first time in her life she desired a bunch of friends from the wizard world. She imagined calling them up on the telephone (except she had been told that most wizard children did not have them) and pouring out the news of her acceptance over and over again to excited ears. 

Instead, she only had her mother, who nodded patiently as Meghan read her acceptance letter out loud, over and over again. She scribbled the news to Anna and tied it to Mercury's leg. After she sent the owl outside, she watched it fly off into the distance, in the direction of that school of magic that she had yet to see.

She almost wished that she were Thumbelina's size, so that she could have sealed herself into the envelope and gone along with Mercury.

But of course, she wasn't to go to Hogwarts for a few more months yet. In the meantime, she had to serve at least six detentions, finish her last dreadful year of primary school, and get ready. She grinned and reached into the acceptance letter envelope, searching for the enclosed list of school supplies.


	15. Through the Fireplace

Her eleventh birthday came to pass days later, the school year came to an uneventful close, and somehow Meghan got through it all in one piece. Through the summer's rainy weather she battled her nightmares in private, and in its sunny weather she played Quidditch with Anna in their backyards, protected from the view of muggle neighbors by a special series of charms that their parents had set beforehand.

Now it was late in August, and Anna was pounding on Meghan's bedroom door.

"Meghan, aren't you ready yet?" she shouted.

"Almost, Anna, I'll be out in a moment!" Meghan shouted back from the other side of the door, as she pulled back her hair.

Today was the day for them to go school shopping, and she was excited. Anna had come over that morning so that Meghan's mother could send them both to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with Trevor. The plans were made a week ago: Anna and Meghan could do their school shopping without an adult present as long as they stayed with Trevor. Then they would meet up with a couple of Anna's friends at some point, whose mother would eventually find them and take them all back to her home. Meghan, Anna, and Trevor would spend the last week before school started with these friends, and they would all go to Hogwarts together.

Meghan hastened to pull on her woolen sweater after securing her dark hair with a black ribbon at the back of her head. By looking at what she was wearing, one could agree that she did not exactly have a conventional taste in fashion. Along with her unraveling black sweater worn in the heat of summer, she was wearing a green tartan kilt, electric-blue tights, and gold hoop earrings. Her lipstick was magenta-colored, a change from the usual aubergine that she had worn to school. She was also wearing Roman sandals, footwear which she cherished enough to save for special occasions such as this.

As she quickly tried to smooth down the frizzy wisps of hair that hung down despite having been pulled back, she inspected her face in the bedroom mirror. She had been hit with a Bludger while playing Quidditch, and her right cheek was still bruised. She tried to cover it with the makeup she had smuggled from her mother's bathroom cabinet, but the swelling was still there, even if the color was more or less different.

"Meghan, hurry up!" Anna shouted again. "We don't have much time!'

"What's the rush?" Meghan called back. "It won't take us long to get there."

"But you also know that we're supposed to meet my friends in Diagon Alley. I don't want to be late!"

"All right, I'm coming," Meghan sighed. She threw on her jacket, tossed the makeup bottle into a dresser drawer, and dashed out of the room.

When she went downstairs to the living room, she was greeted by the sight of Anna, Trevor, and her mother, as well as all the suitcases and bags that they would be taking to Anna's friends' house. Everything was piled by the fireplace.

"How are we supposed to transport all this?"

"Just eat your breakfast and hurry," her mother answered, handing Meghan a strawberry Pop-Tart and her school supplies list with a small envelope attached. "We've made some last-minute plans, so we don't have very much time."

Indeed, there must have been a rush. Meghan's mother had always insisted on the family eating healthy food, so they had to be in a real hurry for her to be providing Pop-Tarts for breakfast.

But Meghan didn't dwell on it. Instead, she just shoved the supply list and envelope into her pocket and half the tart into her mouth. She had just taken a bite when she felt something warm and wet nuzzling at her hand.

She turned around to see what it was, and instantly cried out with joy at the sight of tan fur, black stripes, and twitching ears.

"Tiger!" she squealed. The dog jumped on her and made a lunge for her Pop-tart until Anna ran up to restrain him. Meghan was shocked.

"Anna, what did you bring your dog here for? We can't have him along!"

"The dogs are going to be with you for the rest of the summer," Meghan's mother answered, amid coaxing Mercury into his cage. "The mother of Anna's friends said that it would be good for them to roam around in the country while you three are at school."

"So…" Meghan bit her lip and looked around at the luggage and animals. "Do you mean we have to take this all with us when we go to Diagon Alley?"

"No, no, no. When you three go and do your school shopping,_ I'll_ transport your things to the house you're staying at," Meghan's mother explained. "The owls will go along, and you'll find everything there when you're done shopping."

Meghan raised her eyebrows.

"And you're _sure _that they won't mind all this?"

"Oh, it's not too much trouble," Meghan's mother replied. "You're staying at a place out in the country where there's plenty of room. The people there said it was all right. We can leave as soon as Trevor rounds Indy up." Meghan's mother paused.

"Trevor?" she called. "Trevor, where are you? We have to get going!" She wandered out of the room, calling for her son.

When she was gone, Anna pulled Meghan into a corner.

"You know where we're staying, don't you?" she whispered.

"With your friends, right?

"Yes. These boys are my good friends at Hogwarts, and one of them is my boyfriend I told you about. You'll like them both."

"They're_ boys?_" Meghan's stomach fluttered. "Since when are we allowed to sleep over with boys?"

"Relax. It's not like we'll be sleeping in the same room with them. And their mother knows that I'm dating one of them, but she likes me a lot, so it's all right."

Meghan nodded, curious and excited. She was not used to making friends, so it seemed like a long-awaited opportunity.

Meghan's mother and brother came back into the room with Indiana, and when three children, two dogs, and two owls (Mercury and Anna's owl, Iris) were finally assembled before the fireplace, Meghan's mother was standing before them with a camera.

"Smile!" she commanded. "This is the closest thing to a before-school picture, now that _both_ of my children are at Hogwarts this year!"

Everyone smiled at their own accord- that is, Meghan scowled, Trevor crossed his eyes, and Anna stuck out her tongue. So Meghan's mother sighed and snapped the picture, realizing that this was the best "smile" pose she was going to get.

"All right, we're ready to go! Anna and Trevor, get your dogs and line up at the fireplace. Anna, you go in first with Tiger because you're our guest."

Anna stepped into the fireplace.

"Why do I need my dog with me?" she called out to Meghan's mother. "Aren't you taking them over with you?"

"Don't worry, dear," Meghan's mother called back. "You and Trevor can take the dogs with you to Diagon Alley. Just keep them on a lead."

"Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Wolf!"

Anna exchanged excited glances with Meghan at the prospect of going school shopping with her dog. Meghan pushed Tiger toward her. Trevor picked up a handful of powder from a box on a nearby shelf and tossed it into the fireplace where Anna and Tiger were standing.

In an instant, bright green flames rose up in the fireplace, licking at the girl and the dog standing there. Anna, unharmed, gripped onto Tiger's lead in anticipation.

"Where do you want to go today, Anna?"

"Madam Malkin's!" she shouted with enthusiasm. She and Tiger both disappeared in an instant, and the green flames immediately extinguished themselves.

Meghan stepped up next into the fireplace, nervous because it was the first time that she would travel alone by Floo Powder. Trevor threw another handful of powder at the fireplace, and the green flames rose up again.

"Wait! I almost forgot!" her mother called, running up to the fireplace. She hastily handed Meghan a small denim pouch. Meghan opened it and stared in gaping admiration of the generous collection of gold, silver, and bronze coins that were in there.

"You'll need all this to get school supplies," her mother explained. "Remember, you three will be shopping on your own today, so _stay together_! Please read your supply list, anddon't forget to look at the note I gave you. Trevor and Anna will explain how to use the money."

Meghan nodded happily and zipped the pouch closed.

"Good-bye, Mum."

"Good-bye, dear! And don't forget to write home when you're at school," her mother reminded her. "Now, say the words _loudly_. Where are you going?"

"Madam Malkin's!" Meghan shouted back, at the top of her lungs.

In a flash, the living room disappeared, and Meghan felt like a vacuum was sucking her through an endless tunnel. When she closed her eyes, the only sound she could hear was the wind blowing through her hair.


	16. Knockturn Alley

The next thing Meghan knew, the three of them were piled together in a different fireplace, sooty and struggling their way out of the collision. Coughing on dust and ashes, Anna crawled her way out of the mess and stumbled over the others to reclaim Tiger. Trevor grabbed Indiana's lead, and Anna grabbed Meghan's arm to pull her out of the dirty fireplace. They all brushed themselves off and examined their surroundings.

The fireplace had successfully transported them to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the clothing business at which Meghan and Trevor's mother had worked for several years. Mrs. Wolf had been practiced in the shop's trade from childhood, when her own mother had worked there. Having been a single parent for several years, her job was the family's only source of income, and she did it very well. Because of her shrewdness at business and skill in sewing, her position was second only to that of Madam Malkin herself.

Madam Malkin, a squat, mauve-clad witch, warmly welcomed the children in the midst of other customers, saying a few spells over each of them to clean off the soot stains.

"And where is Mrs. Wolf today?"

"She's taking most of the day off, Madam," Trevor answered. "She's involved with preparations for our school term and can't come in until late afternoon.

"Yes, it is that time of year, isn't it?" Madam Malkin smiled warmly. "And I suppose…no, down dog,_ down_!" She shooed Indiana and Tiger safely into one of the back rooms nearby, so that they would not run around the store and cause any disruption. Then she turned back to the children.

"Your mother said that there was a new one going into Hogwarts this year." She beamed at Meghan. "I take it you are that one, little girl?"

"She's my sister," Trevor asserted, before Meghan had the chance to speak. "Her name is Meghan."

"How delightful, Miss Meghan! And tell me, dear, have you bought your very own wand yet?"

"No, she hasn't," Trevor volunteered again. "Mum told us to get our school robes here first, and then head down to the wand shop. I have to show my little sister around Diagon Alley today, because she hasn't really been here before-"

"I can speak for myself, thank you very much!" Meghan snapped. Furthermore, it was a subject of embarrassment for her that she had never stepped foot in Diagon Alley before. She had rarely even been inside this shop, except that her mother sometimes let her go along on busy weekend days, when extra help was needed. Other than that, the only impression Meghan ever got of the place was when her mother came home by Floo powder after work, bearing an armload of unfinished robes, smelling of thread spools and fabric snippets. Meghan knew that other wizard children were accustomed to the area and the shop, but whenever she had asked if she could go too, her mother would reply with a solemn face: "Not until you're older."

As Anna's school robes from last year still fit well, she did not need new ones. With a look of wistful curiosity on her face, she instead passed the time by poring through a rack of fancy and expensive dress robes that were made for older girls. Madam Malkin measured the others. Trevor had grown in height last year and needed new school robes; Meghan was uncertain where to start. She knew that robes were the common and preferred dress of the magical world, but when she had begged her mother to be allowed to wear them, she was only told that muggle clothes would suit her well enough for primary school, and that there was no need for her to wear anything else. It wasn't as if she had any regular visits with the magical community, anyway.

Madam Malkin, with her sweetness and charm, made Meghan feel at ease, picking out a robe of the proper size and style to wear. It was a traditional black one that reached almost to Meghan's feet when she put it on, swishing around her ankles as she turned, giving her a sense of imperial dignity. Anna only regarded the sight with a raised eyebrow before she turned back to the dress robes, but when Meghan sized up her own reflection in the mirror, she felt like a queen.

Trevor accepted his robes without any fanfare or self-admiration, tapping his foot impatiently as Meghan admired her reflection another time. He was far too cynical to have the same enjoyment as she did in school robes, and he had long ago been jaded by the experience. He urged Meghan to hurry up.

Madam Malkin added the remaining items on the school uniform list to the bill, including a pair of protective gloves, which she assured Meghan were of the best quality ("You can't go wrong with dragon hide, and anyone can tell you that this shop has the finest sort!"). Also, at her mother's prior insistence, Meghan bought a new nightgown, a velvety wine-red one that reached her ankles. Then she found a brightly-colored green plaid skirt to wear under her robes at school, as well as some crisp blouses and a pair of silk tights. Anna bought new lavender pajamas and some red knee socks. Trevor only bought a pair of black trousers in addition to his robes. Everything was purchased with a discount on behalf of Mrs. Wolf and put into bags.

When Meghan tried to reach for her purchases, Madam Malkin stopped her, saying, "Don't worry about it, sweetie. You don't need to carry all these around while doing your other school shopping. In fact, when you're done with your other errands, you can drop your supplies off here, too. I'll just have your mother pick them up for you when she comes by."

"Why…thank you, Madam Malkin. Thank you very much!"

"You're very welcome, dear. I'm sure Mrs. Wolf will be over in a few hours for everything. Now you collect those two furry little troublemakers of yours and run along."

But before any of them could move, the shop's front door swung open. The new arrival was a tall woman in her thirties, with bony hands and a face that would have looked rather pretty except for its bitter sneer. Her light brown hair was slightly graying and tied up in a bun; her eyes were steel-hard and unfriendly. Her very presence darkened the room and gave it a coldness that Meghan didn't like.

Madam Malkin must not have liked it, either, because her formerly pleasant face had hardened. Its kindness was turning into a stiff politeness that was the bare minimum of civility.

"Good day, Mrs. Twillfit. Are you looking for a new robe for a special occasion?"

"Why, Madam Malkin, don't be silly," Mrs. Twillfit replied through a pair of pale, thin lips. "How badly do you think my business is going, for me to come up and patronize your pitiful little shop?"

Anna gave a cry of protest at the insult, but Madam Malkin was calm.

"In that case, Mrs. Twillfit, to what does my pitiful little shop owe for the pleasure of your visit? Surely you aren't trying to buy out my business again?"

"You aren't going to be here forever," Mrs. Twillfit answered, ignoring the obvious sarcasm. "You're getting older, and I'm in need of the real estate to expand my more, shall I say…upscale enterprise?"

Madam Malkin was brimming with anger.

"I may be older than you, but I am _not_ too old to care for my own shop!" she shouted, turning the heads of customers. "And, despite how much you imply otherwise, my business is not going down the drain! It is thriving, and that is because it supplies for public demand!

"And furthermore, unlike _some _other clothing shops, it is does _not_ jack up its prices to create delusions of real quality!"

Meghan and Anna gulped at Madam Malkin's daring.

"All right, then, have it your way, you mud-lover!" Mrs. Twillfit's face became frightfully angry as her voice rose. "We'll see what happens in a few years…your place can keep catering to mudblood trash, and _we_…we'll serve only quality people. If you won't _sell_ your business to the Tatting family and me, we'll just wait until you_ go_ out of business!"

Meghan and Anna gasped.

"If you just took my offer," Mrs. Twillfit continued nastily, "you could retire early and comfortably while I actually _make_ something of this place. But if you go the way you're going now, you'll be poor and hobbled over in a short time, with nothing to show for all the years you've put in!" She shook her head. "What a shame. Shame for a shameful old woman, it is."

"_I_ am not shameful, and nor am I as old as you think!" Madam Malkin shouted. "I still have some good years left! And rest assured, when I retire, _if _I retire, I will sooner throw myself into the sea than sell my business to you! It will go to the Wolf family instead, and_ that _is final!"

Meghan's jaw dropped, and she was certain that her brother's had done the same. Through varied bits of talk over the years, she had heard that her mother was planning on buying the business someday, but she never suspected that it was in Madam Malkin's intentions all along.

But Mrs. Twillfit was not swayed.

"The _Wolf _family? Woman, are you mad? Old Lacerta Wolf must be at least twenty years your senior!"

"That's my mother you're talking about!" Meghan shouted. She ran over to pounce on Mrs. Twillfit, but Anna grabbed her just in time, pulling her out of the way before she could do any damage. Trevor halfheartedly helped restrain his sister, but he pointed at Mrs. Twillfit and shouted, "You take that back!"

"Oh, I won't take anything back, young man," she sneered. "It will be _your_ family that will eat Madam Malkin's words when _you_ all get run out of business!" She turned back to Madam Malkin, who was glowering at her in fury. "You can have it your way, then, old woman! The business can go to Lacerta Wolf and her two sniveling little brats, and it will amount to absolutely _nothing_ in the end!"

"Get out of my shop, just leave!" Madam Malkin shouted, shaking her fist at Mrs. Twillfit as the latter stormed out. "I have no business of _any_ kind to do with you, so you can just go home! Go back to your pathetically overpriced shop and stay there!"

When the rival was gone, Madam Malkin heaved a sigh of exhaustion and relief, completely ignoring the fact that every customer in the store was fixed on the scene.

"I'm sorry," Madam Malkin said weakly. "I would not have had you children in the store right now had I known she was going to do that. She does that at least twice a month, and I'm sorry that you had to be here for it."

"It's all right," Anna said in a small voice.

"Well, then, you three ought to be going now; I won't keep you here. You just collect your dogs and be on your way, all right?"

They nodded, unable to say anything, except, "Yes, ma'am."

Without another word, they did as they were told and bounded out of the store with their pets, waving to Madam Malkin as they left.

* * *

"I never knew she had it in her," Anna commented after they were safely out of the store. "Madam Malkin always seemed like such a sweet, unassuming old lady, and I wouldn't have suspected she could lash out like that." 

"Twillfit can't talk about our mum like that!" Meghan fumed. "I would've beaten the bloody hell out of her if you lot hadn't held me back!"

"Meghan, Madam Malkin took care of all that, and you saw it for yourself," Trevor reminded her. "You can't just go trying to beat up everyone who insults you!"

"It was Mum she was talking about! She called Mum a hag and said that she was twenty years older than Madam Malkin! I'll bet she knows perfectly well that it's the other way around!"

"She was just being nasty."

"Well, you should have let me have a go at her, then!"

"Speaking of your mum," Anna cut in, desperately trying to switch the subject. "How the heck did you convince her to let us take the dogs to Diagon Alley? My parents would never be that cool."

"Oh, the place is very animal-friendly," Trevor said matter-of-factly. "Most muggle shops don't allow dogs inside, but these places do. The magical world places special value on animals, and some believe that there is magic in animal spirits themselves."

"Stop trying to sound like such a damn know-it-all," Meghan hissed. "I thought you said you were going to show me around Diagon Alley when we were finished with the robes!"

"Just take a look," Anna pointed to the surroundings up ahead. "The place is all around you."

It was true. The streets of Diagon Alley were, to put it mildly, an astounding sight. Everywhere she looked, there were all kinds of shops with people making their ways in and out. This one sold cauldrons of all types and sizes, and that one sold delivery owls, and yet another one was an apothecary whose wares were pungent enough to be smelled from the street. Vendors were peddling goods here and there, calling out to the shoppers for their business. One of them thrust a necklace in Anna's face, saying, "Here girl, something for your pretty little neck, eh?"

They made their way out of the crowd, and into a dusty little shop where Trevor said wands were bought. The letters of peeling gold paint on the door read: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

Mr. Ollivander was an old man with wide, pale eyes that glowed eerily made Meghan nervous. He set to work making measurements of her with a curious silver-marked tape that moved around on its own. Then be brought out different boxes of wands to be tested.

Meghan spent more than twenty tedious minutes trying wand after wand, time after time feeling that something wasn't right with each one. Trevor was pacing back and forth, and Anna was sighing periodically in dismay. Even the dogs were getting restless, prancing and sniffing around the place in search of something more interesting.

"This is getting nowhere," Trevor groaned after about the fifteenth wand was tested.

"Patience, young lad," Mr. Ollivander said gently. "This process cannot be rushed. It is the wand that chooses the wizard, after all…or shall I say, witch." He smiled indulgently at Meghan. "Carry on, my dear. This is very important."

Needless to say, he was the only one who was not getting restless, for several more trials made even Meghan discouraged.

Mr. Ollivander was not discouraged. However, Meghan couldn't help but notice that as the wand trials progressed, his attention seemed to be focused more on her than on each wand that he decided was no good for her. She really wanted to pick up any random wand out of the pile, purchase it, and be done with the whole thing, but Mr. Ollivander wouldn't allow it. Each time she tried out a wand, she would hold it in the air for a moment, and Mr. Ollivander would study her with his creepy, silvery eyes. Then he would snatch the wand back, saying no, it was not the right one, and Meghan wondered what was wrong with it.

"You're my trickiest customer so far this year," he chuckled, putting yet another failed wand back in its box.

"You can say that again," Trevor muttered under his breath.

"And yet," Mr. Ollivander continued, ignoring the remark, "I believe there is hope for you. You see, I've been studying you for a while, and I'm thinking…"

He walked off to the back of his store, whistling a few notes in a minor key that made Meghan shiver.

"What's he doing?" she whispered to Anna. "He's so creepy."

Anna shrugged and stroked Tiger's fur. Mr. Ollivander reappeared a moment later, carrying another box in hand.

"It never fails," he remarked. "I get at least one unusually tricky customer per year, but you, miss, are really something."

"Is that a bad thing?" Meghan asked timidly.

"Bad?" He chuckled. "No, dear, not bad, but let's say…unusual. Here, I think that this one might suit you. Take a look." He pulled it out of the box. "A cedar wand with mermaid scale and powdered sapphire, nine inches."

"Mermaid scale and powdered sapphire?" Trevor's eyes narrowed. "Now, what kind of mix is that? Nobody has that in their wands!"

"Well, I don't even put it in mine." Mr. Ollivander shrugged. "It's a fickle combination, and it's certainly not for everyone. However, I always have a few imported wands on hand for tricky customers such as this one. Here you go, Miss Wolf."

Meghan took the wand from him, and immediately, she noticed that it felt strange in her hands. It felt very warm, then cool, and then it seemed to vibrate in an almost numbing way.

"Swish it," commanded Mr. Ollivander.

She did, and the effects were astounding. Red and gold sparks shot from the wand and onto the walls. The sparks turned into dazzling streams of blue and green and silver that danced all over the place like a fireworks display and commanded the amazement of everyone in the room, including the dogs. Indiana barked at the spectacle, Tiger whined, Mr. Ollivander applauded.

"Well done, well done, Miss Wolf!" he exclaimed. "It is always my guarantee that everyone who comes into my shop looking for a wand will not be disappointed- if, of course, they are willing to wait long enough. Yes, dear, even for tricky ones like you. The mermaid scale wand is meant for you, and though very rare, I am thoroughly convinced that it is the best one you can have."

"Then will you ring it up now, please?" Trevor asked curtly. "We're behind schedule."

Meghan elbowed him sharply in the side.

As they left the shop, she quietly pocketed her new purchase in the depths of her jacket.

"Well, that all went well, I suppose."

* * *

The next stop was Flourish and Blotts, where the school textbooks were to be purchased. All three of them needed books, but Trevor was to be doing must of the buying, because he needed a whole set of new ones. Meghan and Anna would be using his old ones from years past, to save money. 

Flourish and Blott's was only the third of several stops on the way, but Meghan already decided that it was her favorite. The place absolutely reeked of its books, which were literally piled to the ceiling and came in all different shapes and sizes. Some even appeared to be alive, too, as Meghan spotted saw a book about beetles crawling across the shelves.

In the center of the shop there was a great balcony, and on that balcony stood two girls in witch robes wearing some of the largest hoop earrings Meghan had ever seen. The older one was wearing a green robe and had hair that was frizzy and curly like Meghan's, but a lighter shade of brown, with a tinge of red. The other one, dressed in pink, was shorter and had darker, straighter hair. Both had pale skin and somewhat slanted green eyes, and both were graceful-looking and uncommonly pretty.

"Hey, that's Maile Shield and her little sister Andi!" Anna waved her arms wildly to signal to them. "Maile, over here!"

When the girls noticed, they scrambled down the stairs and rushed up to Anna, jumping with joy and hugging her like they were long-lost friends. They made a generous commotion over the dogs as well, so excited that Anna almost forgot to introduce them to Meghan.

"This is Maile, and she's a third-year student now. And Andi's going to be in her first year, just like you."

"I'm pleased to meet you." Meghan shook hands with them both.

"Maile and I are in the same house at school, and we were on the Flying Band together last year," Anna explained.

"And I highly recommend that you and Andi join as well," Maile added.

"A band…like, with instruments?" Meghan looked uneasy. "I don't know how to play any instrument but the piano."

"_And_ the clarinet," Anna reminded her.

"Oh, that was only for a couple years, in school concert band," Meghan protested. "It was just my mum's old instrument, and it's a piece of shit."

"Of course it's a piece of shit. It's a clarinet."

"Then why would anyone want one in their band?"

Anna giggled, a sputtering, ridiculing laughter.

"It's one of those Band things," Maile assured her. "You see, that's the beauty of being a clarinet, so the woodwind section tells me. You play it, but no one ever hears it."

"So there's no worry," Anna added.

"I'm confused."

"Don't worry, we'll tell you later. It's just that Maile and I were in the school Flying Band together for a year, and I think you can join and play the clarinet."

"What's this Flying Band thing about, anyway?"

"Anna," Maile groaned. "Didn't you tell her _anything_ about Hogwarts?"

"The Band's the best part of it…ever," Anna sighed.

"It's even better than snowball fights in the winter," Maile mused.

"And Fizzing Whizbees, or chocolate frogs that just melt in your mouth…"

"And Drooble's Best Blowing gum, for that matter."

"And Crackle n' Sparkle confetti, like when you throw it in the air and it flashes with color and fizzes all over the place…."

"And cats…"

"And puppies…

"And boys…"

"Combined."

Meghan and Andi exchanged puzzled looks.

"And this is what I have to live with," Andi groaned.

"But if the band is so special, why didn't you tell me about it before?" Meghan asked Anna. "You never wrote about it in your letters."

"It's because you'd have to be there to experience its power," Anna whispered mysteriously. "You'd never understand the Band unless you're a part of it. Promise me you'll join?"

"Umm..." Meghan bit her lip. "I don't know, maybe."

"Andi will be there too, won't you, Andi?" Maile put an arm around her sister. "Come to think of it, did I ever tell you about the hazing ritual we perform on all the new ones?"

"Don't scare the first-years!" Anna warned. "That's my job."

"But how am I going to get my mum's clarinet?" Meghan asked.

"It's simple." Anna put up two fingers. "Two steps. You write home, and your mum delivers the clarinet to my boyfriend's house by owl. It's that easy."

"And if that fails, you can mindlessly bang on some pots and say you're a drummer," Andi muttered aside to Meghan. "That's what my sister's been doing for the past two years."

"I heard that," Maile hissed.

* * *

Whatever the Flying Band was, it must have been something special, Meghan decided, if it had the power to turn Anna and Maile into a pair of raving lunatics right before her eyes. As she walked out of the bookshop and to the Apothecary, she wondered it would be too much of a burden to send for her mother's clarinet. It was lightweight and hadn't been played for at least a year, and Mercury would have little trouble in carrying it the right distance. It seemed like a lot to ask, especially at the last minute, but Meghan was desperate to do anything that would help her fit in at school and be closer to Anna. 

The Apothecary presented a rude contrast to the far pleasanter odors of cloth, wooden wands, and books. It was stale and rotten to the nose, but what it was to the eyes made up for it all. Meghan had never seen such an assortment of peculiar ingredients all in one place. Fangs and feathers, unicorn horns and beetle wings, powders, dried herbs, and roots were all stacked on the shelves, too fascinating in appearance for one to wonder what they were for.

"Potion ingredients," Anna explained. "You'll need a whole load of this stuff for basic classes- no, no, Tiger, get out of that!" She picked up a set of dragon claws and lunged at Meghan with them. "Newts' eyes, frog toes, bat wool, adder's fork, and lizard legs - it's all here, and you get to stir it around in your lovely little cauldron. And when you stew it up, it makes for a nice, flavorful beverage. Here." She picked up a jar of an unidentifiable substance that appeared to be both slimy and alive. "I dare you to eat it if I buy it for you."

Meghan wrinkled her nose.

"That's twelve Sickles and four Knuts," The clerk called out. "But don't blame me for what happens if your friend consumes it."

"I'm just playing with her, Mr. Dimitrios," Anna answered. "She's only a first-year."

"So is my daughter."

All the potion ingredients she needed, a pewter cauldron, a telescope, and a set each of brass scales and crystal phials later, Meghan announced that she was finished with her school shopping.

"You didn't read your note from Mum yet," Trevor reminded her.

"Note? What note? Oh, wait…" Meghan dug into her supply list envelope. "I do recall her saying that she wrote me one. I think it's here. Yes…" She pulled it out, unfolded it, and read the hastily scrawled message:

_Meghan,_

_Now that you are entering your first year of magical schooling, I think that you are ready for a different responsibility as well- your own pet. You may go to the Eeylops Owl Emporium or the Magical Menagerie to get one. Spend wisely, and be thrifty._

_Love,_

_Mother_

"You're going to get your own pet!" Anna exclaimed. "Oh, Meghan, you should get your own owl, so you can deliver mail-"

"We already have Jupiter for that, so it won't be needed," Trevor interrupted.

"But you always tell people it's yours," Meghan protested. "I always have to ask you for permission to use him, because Mum bought him for you."

"It's the family owl. No one ever said it was mine!"

"_You_ always do. You act like it's yours, and you tell me when I can and can't use him during the holidays!"

"Both of you, stop fighting!" Anna scolded. "Meghan, why can't you just a dog, so we'll have three?"

Indiana growled and appealed to his master with his sad, brown eyes.

"I don't think Indy wants a new dog," Trevor sneered.

"Shut up! I don't want a dog, anyway. According to the supply list, I can't take one to school with me."

"Well, let's go to the Menagerie and look there, then," Anna suggested. "Unless it's an owl you want."

"We should take our stuff back to Madam Malkin's first, so we have our hands empty."

* * *

"Done with your school shopping already?" Madam Malkin asked pleasantly as the three came back through the door, arms loaded with bags and leads. She dusted the puppies off and accepted the shopping bags as they were handed to her. 

"Oh dear, you've got quite a load there! I'm sure your mother's going to have to make a few trips at this. Are you all done, then?"

"Pretty much," Trevor answered. "I suppose my sister just wants an owl now."

"I don't want an owl," Meghan growled. "It's just a waste of money, like you said, isn't it?"

"Well, you said Mercury is mine, then, didn't you?"

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!"

Anna quickly changed the subject. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's five till three right now, if my clock is right," Madam Malkin answered.

"Let's hurry up, then." Anna turned toward the door. "If Meghan wants a new pet of any sort, we'd better get it quick, because I promised my friends to meet them at 3:30."

"You'll have the time."

"Not if these two keep arguing." Anna looked to the others regretfully. "Well, thank you very much, Madam Malkin. You've been a big help to us today."

"Yes, thank you, Madam Malkin," Trevor added. "Meghan, say thank-you."

"Don't tell me what to say!"

"Let's go!" Anna snapped.

"Wait…" Meghan turned back to Madam Malkin. "Madam, I'm really grateful for what you've done so far, in handling our packages and everything. But could you do just one more thing?"

"And what would that one thing be, dear?"

"When my mother comes around, could you please ask her if she could send her clarinet in along with everything else? Like, in case I don't see her again later?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"She'll understand. Would you just tell her that I want to join the Band at Hogwarts, and I need the instrument? I promise I'll take care of it."

"I'll tell her, dear." Madam Malkin smiled. "Though I can't guarantee the results. You run along, now, and we'll see what happens."

"All right, then. And thank you, Madam, thank you very much!"

She raced out the door after Anna and Trevor.

* * *

"So Hogwarts really does have a so-called 'Flying Band', correct?" 

"M-hm."

"And, sending for my mother's clarinet isn't all for nothing, right?"

"M-hm."

"So, this isn't just some practical joke you're playing?"

"Meghan, if I wanted to play a practical joke on you, I'd think of something that's not so lame. Or I'd ask my boyfriend, because he's the master of mischief. Now, do you want a rat?" Anna pointed at a cage that was crawling with rodents, and beckoned to a nearby teenage girl.

"Jen, how much do those go for?"

"We're having a sale," the girl answered. "Three Sickles apiece. It's supposed to be a real bargain. What do you want a rat for, anyway?"

"It's for my friend here. I don't want a rat."

"I don't want one, either." Meghan wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I like them. Where did Trevor and Indy go, anyway?"

"Trevor went to check Quality Quidditch Supplies. He said he fancies a new riding broom."

"Does that mean I can have his old one?"

"No, I think he's just window-shopping. How about a toad, then?"

"One Galleon, even," Jen announced. "They're cute enough."

Meghan looked at the toads with disinterest.

"I'll pass."

She felt something lightly poking and tugging at her sweater sleeve. At first she thought it was Anna, but she was met with something different when she turned around.

"Oh, Anna, look, it's so pretty!"

"The toad?" Anna squinted. "I thought you said you didn't want one."

"No, not a toad…" Meghan pulled the thing out of its box. It was a tiny black kitten, with curious emerald-green eyes and an opal-white patch of fur on its chin. It was pawing at a string hanging from Meghan's unraveling sleeve, meowing softly as it tugged the yarn back and forth.

"That one's a new arrival," Jen explained. "Just came in an hour ago. She's an Emerald Wonder, which is a rare type of housecat in the magical world, and essentially unheard of among muggles. An Emerald Wonder is known to have originated in the Orient, and its namesake green eyes are its signature quality, along with a reputedly high degree of feline intelligence."

"You seem to know a lot about cats," Meghan commented. "Do you work here?"

"I'm Jennifer Hart." The girl smiled cutely. "My family owns this place, and we've had it for three generations. And yes, I do have to repeat that spiel every time somebody asks about the pretty kitty with the green eyes."

"_She's_ a member of the flying band too," Anna added. "Jen, isn't it true that Hogwarts really does have a band?"

"It does," Jennifer beamed. "That's how I met Maile Shield. Her family owns the bookstore now, by the way."

"Yeah, we just talked to her."

"She made her sister promise to be in the Band this year. I suspect Anna's done the same to you?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Meghan rolled her eyes.

"No, it's_ not_ unfortunate," Jen admonished her. "The Flying Band is the best thing that's happened to me at Hogwarts so far, and I've been there for two years already."

"Jen and I both play the piccolo," Anna added. "And Maile's a drummer who's trying to get her sister to play the cymbals. You can do that too, if your mum doesn't come through about the clarinet."

"But what about this cat?"

"Oh, that one? Twenty-five Galleons."

Meghan drew in a hissing, sharp breath. "That's more than what my wand cost, and even it was expensive!"

"I told you that an Emerald Wonder was rare. It's not impossible to find if you're in the right place at the right time, but the price can be high."

"Anna, how much money do I have left?"

She grabbed the pouch and counted.

"Thirty Galleons, eleven Sickles, and nine Knuts."

"Well, that's enough, and then some more." Meghan breathed a sigh of relief. "Can't I buy this cat, then?"

"Not so fast," Anna warned. "It's recommended to have some money to spare, just in case."

"But I have nothing more to buy!"

"My mum says to have some emergency money on hand, because you never know what could come up. Ten Galleons ought to do it."

"But then I won't have much more than twenty left! Can we make it just five for emergency money?"

"I recommend at least ten, from my experience. Don't you plan to play the clarinet in the Band this year?"

"I can't promise anything." Meghan stroked the little kitten, which was now pawing at a loose button on her sweater. "I asked Madam Malkin to ask my mother for hers, but I don't know if she'll send it to me. It's not a cheap instrument, and I don't think she'll give it up easily."

"Well, if you play it, you'll need to buy reeds and other supplies for it. And reeds are not cheap, I hear."

"What if I don't play the clarinet after all?"

Jen shook her head. "We need more clarinets this year, because five seventh-years left last year."

"But-"

"Here." Jen went over to the cash register and typed in a few figures. "Did I say that cat was twenty-five Galleons? I'll knock off two if you promise to join the Band, which will leave you plenty for supplies."

"Well…"

"And if the clarinet doesn't work out, you can be a cymbal player instead. It requires no extra materials, and the school provides the instrument."

"And I can scrounge up some…" Anna dug into her purse. "Here's three Galleons, and you are damn lucky that I recently won a bet for them. You can pay me back later, if the cat is so important to you."

"Gee, uh…thanks." Meghan blushed deeply. "Jen, is it really all right for you to give me that kind of discount?"

"My parents are Band parents." Jen shrugged. "They won't mind."

"Well, I have some muggle money," Meghan offered.

"It's worthless here. We don't recognize it in this shop. And we're not going to take the trouble in exchanging at the Gringott's bank for two Galleons' worth."

"So, the cat is mine?"

"_If_ you promise to join the Flying Band. No excuses."

"Well…well, all right then, it's a deal. And thank you for the generous offer. I really appreciate it."

"Of course you do." Jen grinned and pointed to the rat cage. "Unless you want one of those little buggers instead. They're cheap."

Meghan and Anna paid for their purchase and left the shop.

* * *

"Well, that Jen Hart girl seemed awfully nice." Meghan stroked her new kitten's ears as they walked along the crowded streets. 

"She is very nice," Anna agreed. "She's also one of the most popular girls in the Band. And she knows all these jokes, too. Like, what do you call a drummer without a girlfriend?"

"I don't know."

"Homeless."

They chuckled as they walked down Diagon Alley, with Meghan still petting her cat, and Anna guiding Tiger, who was sniffing around in canine curiosity.

"All right, I've got another one for you. What's the difference between trombone players and government bonds?"

"What?"

"Government bonds eventually mature and earn money."

"Good one."

"Oh, here's another one: little Tommy went up to his mother and said, 'Mum, I want to be a trumpet player when I grow up.' And his mum replied, 'but Tommy, you can't do both!'"

"Clever."

"Here's one just for you: what's the difference between a clarinet and a mouse?"

"What?"

"You can't hear a mouse squeak over the entire band!"

"That's comforting."

"And here's another: how many clarinet players does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"Not the light bulb again," Meghan groaned.

"The answer is one, but she has to search through several bulbs to find just the right one. Now, how many _hamsters_ does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Two, but I don't know how they got in there."

"Sicko."

"We still have ten minutes left, right?"

"Less, I think. The clock over there says 3:22."

"We've got to hurry, then. Here, turn this way."

* * *

Meghan didn't say anything at first, but she felt that the pleasant breeze and bright sunshine were progressively waning. London wasn't known for its sunny weather, even in August, but somehow she was certain that it had been much brighter ten minutes ago. As more band jokes were rattled off, she looked up. The sky wasn't cloudy, and the sun was no dimmer than it had been before. Yet, when she looked down again, the streets seemed darker and duller, less welcoming than she had remembered them. 

The smell was getting worse, too. Anna didn't seem to notice it, but the odor of things rotten and dead was offending her nose. It wasn't nearly as pungent as that of the Apothecary, but it was worse, and she couldn't tell exactly what was.

"So, what's the difference between an onion and an oboe?" Anna asked.

No answer.

"Nobody cries when you chop up an oboe."

"Anna, where are we?"

Tiger started to whine, jumping up and pleading to Anna with his eyes. Meghan was beginning to grow suspicious.

"Are you certain this is the right way?"

"I know my way around this place!" Anna snapped. But she was growing noticeably paler. And, in a smaller voice: "I just wanted to take a detour."

"What do you mean, a detour?"

Anna gulped.

"Did your brother ever tell you about Knockturn Alley?"

"No."

"Well, that's where we are now."

She pointed to the street sign above a shop that sold poisonous candles. Indeed, the overall foulness was not in Meghan's imagination. The street was lined with less-respectable places than where they had been before, including one with shrunken heads in the window, and another whose window display was slithering with large, striped snakes. Anna recoiled in distaste. Meghan shuddered at a display with a cage crawling with large, black spiders.

"Anna, this place gives me the creeps. Let's get out of here."

"We'll go soon."

"Now!"

"I've always wondered what this place was like," Anna mused, ignoring Meghan.

"Are we even _allowed _in here?"

"No," Anna answered matter-of-factly. "That's why we're here. Your brother's looking at riding brooms, and there are no grown-ups with us. It's the perfect opportunity."

"Opportunity for _what_?"

"Just to look. And have a little fun." Anna shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you. This is practically the opportunity of a lifetime, now that we don't have any parents holding us back. And my boyfriend's going to be so jealous when I tell him about it."

"Anna, I really think we should be getting back-"

"Oh, look!" Anna grabbed Meghan's arm and dragged her along the street. "I always wanted to check out this place! Come on, they tell me its merchandise is cursed!"

Meghan was dragged into Borgin and Burkes, a large and dimly lit store the very look of which told her that she shouldn't be there.

"It's so cool!" Anna pointed at a glass case that contained a bloodstained deck of cards, a glass eye, and a withered human hand on a cushion. "Do you think that's real?"

"I hope not," Meghan whispered, nervously surveying a shelf full of skulls.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" a surly voice growled from behind the counter.

Meghan turned around and was taken aback by the sight of Mr. Borgin, who owned the store. The stooping, ugly man with a head full of greasy hair and a pair of pince-nez on his nose was regarding the girls with a mean look.

"Um…good afternoon," Anna said in a small voice, her courage waning at the sight of his face. "I was just, um, looking for a certain something to…buy." She twiddled her fingers and looked to Meghan for help.

"Um…"

_Oh, don't look at me, Anna, you got us into this!_

"Some jewelry, maybe?" Meghan pointed to a magnificent opal necklace in a glass-fronted case. "We just wanted to see about buying that over there."

"Well, we can arrange that," Mr. Borgin snarled. "If you've got fifteen hundred Galleons, that is. Still care to buy, little miss?"

"Um, no thank you." Anna looked uneasy. "I suppose that's just a bit out of our price range. Just a bit."

"Rather pretty, though," Meghan added. She looked at the sign next to it. "Is it really true that this necklace has killed 19 muggles to date? I mean, that's just a joke, right?"

"You'll see how much of a joke it is if you try it on," Mr. Borgin hissed.

"Right." Meghan stepped back from the necklace and hugged her kitten protectively close to her sweater. "Come on, Anna, we'd better be going to meet your friends now."

The door opened just then, sending in a breeze that caused both girls to turn around and look. A man stepped in, tall, emaciated-looking, and pale, with deep shadows beneath his eyes. He had been looking dull and bored when he entered, but at the sight of Meghan and Anna, his face became scarily excited.

"Good day, ladies." He bowed low and flashed them a devious grin. "My name is Sanguini. It is my pleasure to meet you."

Tiger growled. Anna regarded the man with a raised eyebrow, but she was alarmed to see that Meghan had turned deathly pale.

"Meghan, are you all right?"

She wasn't. She started shaking violently, holding her kitten more tightly to her than before. She took a few steps back.

"Y-you stay away from me!" Her voice was badly quavering, as if she would burst into tears the next moment. "Get the fuck away from me, you…you _monster_!"

"Meghan,_ what _has gotten into you?" Anna snapped.

"Yes, what's the matter, girlie?" Mr. Borgin chuckled from behind the counter in a foul voice. "Haven't your pretty young eyes ever seen a vampire before?"

Meghan screamed at the top of her lungs and sprinted out of the shop.

* * *

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Anna screeched when she finally caught up with Meghan, panting and heaving as she demanded an answer. "Everyone in the alley must think you're demented!" 

"No, _they're _demented!" Meghan shouted. "The whole lot of them are insane!"

"Oh, stop dramatizing!"

"That thing was going to kill me!" Meghan moaned. "I know it wanted to come back and finish me off-"

"Meghan, what are you_ talking_ about? He was just a weird guy who was saying hello to us! He wasn't going to kill anyone!"

"Yes, he was!" Meghan lamented.

"Look, just forget it, all right? Come on, let's get you some fresh air."

Anna soberly dragged Meghan out of Knockturn Alley, carrying the kitten and leading Tiger, who were both shaken up by the incident.

"Feeling better now?"

Meghan nodded, slowly inhaling each breath of Diagon Alley's fresh air. Good old Diagon Alley, with its clothing shop, its pet shop, its ice cream shop, its book shop, its cauldron shop, and even its smelly old Apothecary! Anything was better than display windows with their hideous spiders and snakes and skulls.

_Or vampires. With their long Dracula fangs and everything._

Suddenly, Meghan felt that her outburst had been very silly after all.

"What, was he going to kill me in the middle of some dusty shop?" Meghan chuckled faintly. "That was stupid of me."

"No, it was stupid of _me_ to take you into Knockturn Alley when you weren't ready," Anna grimly corrected her. "Hell, my mum wouldn't have let_ me_ in if she were here."

"You're only a year older than me, Anna."

"Well, you didn't see _me_ running out of some shop, screaming because some creepy guy walked in. I mean, true, he was a vampire, but that doesn't mean he would just devour us right then and there!"

"I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter now. In fact, it's probably best that you ran out when you did, because we're almost ten minutes late to see my friends already. Here." Anna pulled Meghan into the Gambol & Japes prank items shop. "This is the place."

It was one of the most magnificent shops yet, making Meghan all but completely forget the trauma of Knockturn Alley. The shelves were lined high with items that Meghan never knew existed, including powder that made the soles of a person's shoes feel like quicksand, gum that made the chewer's face turn purple and warty, and skunk-scented exploding toilet bombs that were guaranteed to cause large-scale mayhem for at least fifteen minutes. A girl with wide-framed glasses and mousy brown hair was lifting a box off of a shelf that read: _Sizzler! There's no better way to give your not-so-special someone a better shock by mail! Send it by owl, and make your someone howl!_

And in the corner of the box, there was a note in small, but bold lettering:

**_Gambol and Japes is not responsible for any damages done by this product. Use at your own risk._**

The girl lifted her glasses off the bridge of her nose and smiled at Anna and Meghan.

"Good afternoon, ladies," she greeted them in a professional-sounding voice. I'm Emily Perkins, but you can call me Emmy. Oh, hey there, doggy!" She petted Tiger and pointed at a squat, good-natured-looking fellow who was standing behind the counter and talking to two people in pointed hats. "My uncle over there owns this place. His name is Jacob Gambol, but you can call him Uncle Jake. Everyone does."

Upon hearing his name, the man at the counter waved congenially to the girls and then went on talking to the other two.

"He's going over the finer aspects of one of our new products to two of our best customers," the girl explained proudly. "In the meantime, I can assist you in whatever you're looking for."

"Tell our new arrivals to come over here," the kindly clerk ordered. "I have a feeling that they've been expected."

The girls approached the counter, and Meghan listened to the chatter of the other two customers to each other.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm from England."

"Are you, really? Well, so am I."

"Amazing! I'm specifically from a little town called Ottery St. Catchpole. Ever heard of the place?"

"Have I _heard_ of the place? I grew up there!"

"Did you really? What a coincidence…so did I!"

"Unbelievable! Now, don't tell me next that you grew up in a big, broken-down shack with a whole lot of brothers and-"

"I did!"

"You don't say!"

"Ladies," Uncle Jake said dryly, "Feel free to ignore the infamous Weasley twins."

As if on cue, the two customers turned around and pulled off their hats, revealing themselves as two redheaded and freckled twin boys.

"Fred!" Anna ran up to one of them and threw her arms around his neck. "Certainly you didn't think you two were fooling me in those stupid hats!"

"Why, Anna, they're our school hats!" Fred pretended to look hurt. "Now, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course I will!" Anna gave Fred a hearty kiss on the cheek. "Meghan, this is Fred, my boyfriend whom I've been telling you about-"

"Do you tell her about all the things we do in the broom closets at Hogwarts? Because if you don't, you're leaving out half the story."

"Fred!"

"Just teasing, sweetheart."

"And here we have sweet little George," Anna indicated the other boy, "to whom Fred is the evil twin." She draped an arm around each one. "There. Now, aren't they just as cute as I told you they were?"

"Cuter," Meghan answered truthfully.

"Fred and George," Anna continued, "This is the friend I told you about from back in London, the one who used to go to some shitty muggle school-"

"Language, Miss Anna," Uncle Jake warned. "We need not set your friend a bad example."

"Sorry, Uncle Jake. Anyway, this is my friend Meghan, and she's starting at Hogwarts this year."

"So am I!" Emmy piped up, her face brightening. "I'm a first-year at Hogwarts too, remember?"

"Good old Emmy!" Fred gave her an affectionate slap on the shoulder. "So, you two, I take it you're ready to learn the fine art of toilet explosion? It's a prank we did in the bathroom last year, and it would be a handy little trick for you to learn as well."

"Fred, shut up," Anna growled.

"But it's just the beginning!"

"Well, explosion equals expulsion if you ever get caught."

"Who says we're going to get caught?"

"_Anyway_…" Anna turned back to Meghan. "Fred, George, and I have plans for the four of us go to a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. We're going to meet our friend Lee there and have a drink before we go back Fred and George's together. Does that sound good to you?"

"You're all going home with Fred and George?" Emmy asked innocently.

"Just Meghan and I are." Anna replied matter-of-factly. "And Meghan's brother is, too. In fact, we're all going to be spending a week with the Weasleys until school starts, and then we'll go off to Hogwarts together. No, _put_ that down!" she scolded Tiger, who had just seized some contraband from a shelf in his jaws. "Off to the pub, then?"

Emmy was looking disappointed.

"Might as well go now," George shrugged.

"Wait!" Emmy looked pleadingly to her uncle. "Uncle Jake, can I go with them, pretty please? My shift's over."

"Why, Emmy, dear, you can't just invite yourself along," Uncle Jake admonished her. "It isn't very polite."

"Oh, she can go along with us; we don't mind." Anna silently counted the money in her purse.

"It might be better, actually, if we had her with us," Fred added. "That way it would be three boys, three girls even. You see," he said to George, "It'll be me and Anna together, and you and Lee would, you know, have Emmy and Meghan." He nudged his twin insinuatingly.

George seemed to be forcing a grin as he glanced over at Meghan. "No one ever said it was a group date, though."

"No, no one ever_ said_…"

"Oh, come on, then!" Anna gathered Tiger's lead and motioned to the others. "If we don't hurry up, the place will be too crowded for the evening rush. Let's go!"

* * *

"What's your cat's name?" Emmy asked Meghan as they walked to the pub. 

"I don't think I've given it a name yet."

"How about Pepper? It's black, after all."

"Pepper sounds cute," Meghan agreed.

"How about Emerald? For its eyes?"

"Emerald's even better."

"It's a pretty little kitten."

"Thank you."

Meghan really didn't want to talk, so she was grateful when Emmy ran up to join the others, grabbing George's arm. Emmy spent the rest of the walk laughing raucously at his jokes, and the sound of it was getting on Meghan's nerves.

But really, she was hurt. George seemed nice enough, but she had noticed his distaste to Fred's pairing them up. Of course, six people having a drink together wasn't automatically to be considered a "date", but she could tell that George was not thrilled about the arrangement.

"Kitty," she addressed her cat in a voice so small that no one else could hear it. "Am I really ugly, like Alec Pope said I was?"

The kitten mewed softly and raised a paw to her owner's face.

"Oh, you're such a pretty kitty, aren't you? Yes, you are."

The cat meowed in what sounded like approval.

"Oh, you're glamorous, aren't you, with those big emerald eyes of yours?"

The cat waved a paw in Meghan's face.

"You're glamorous like Marilyn Monroe and Brigitte Bardot. And Anne Baxter, and Jane Asher. You're like that lady in the _Cats_ musical. You're a real glamour-cat. Yes, that's right."

She kissed the kitten lightly on top of its head.

"I'll name you Grizabella."

* * *

Grizabella turned out to be a lively cat indeed, making repeated attempts to paw at the foam on top of Meghan's sarsaparilla. Other people in the pub commented at the little kitten's unusual beauty, including a harassed-looking barmaid, who served the group their drinks and marveled that Grizabella had "eyes you only see on an Egyptian queen."  
"It's rare you see such a little beauty like her," chuckled Tom, the bald and toothless bartender. "Look at how those eyes glow in the dark." 

Grizabella's emerald eyes really were a treasure in the darkness of the shabby pub, two slits of luminous green peering out at the patrons. The Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan, a boy with dreadlocks and a good-natured grin, amused himself by dangling a string in front of the kitten, only for the pleasure of seeing her paw at it.

"It's funny how I didn't notice her while we were in Gambol and Japes'," Fred commented, taking a sip from his mug of butterbeer. "She must have had her head turned or something, because other than those green eyes, she blends right into Meghan's sweater."

"Yes, she's such a pretty kitty, aren't you, Grizzy?" Anna cooed. "So soft and green-eyed. I would have named her Emerald."

"That's what _I_ said," Emmy cut in, eager to take the credit.

"I've decided that's too predictable," Meghan said. "I think Grizabella's better."

"I thought there was only to be one name per Jellicle cat," Anna pointed out. "Your cat can't share another cat's name."

"I still say the name suits her fine," Meghan insisted, stroking Grizabella's ears. "If you think there's a problem, you can talk to T.S. Eliot about the copyright issues."

"And speaking of issues," Lee said, changing the subject, "Aren't any of you trying out for the Quidditch team this year?"

Anna looked down, seeming strangely ashamed, but Fred and George did not.

"Of course I'm trying out for the Quidditch team, and I'll be damned if I don't make it!"

"I've been practicing all summer!"

"I'd like to try out, too," Emmy volunteered. "I have a riding broom at home I could use-"

"Sorry, Em." Lee interrupted apologetically. "I hate to break it to you, but first-years never make the team. You only get seven players per house, so it's really competitive."

"Besides," George added, "You can't own your own riding broom at school until second year."

"Oh." Emmy looked glum.

"Not to worry, though," Anna reassured her. "There's no rule against you trying out for the team, and if you don't make it, you have many chances later."

Emmy wasn't cheered up at all. She sullenly twiddled the paper umbrella on her drink around in her fingers.

Anna, sensing Emmy's disappointment, decided to change the subject. She took the maraschino cherry out of her own drink and put it in her mouth.

"Care to see an old pub trick?"

She regaled the other five by using her tongue to twist the stem into a knot, meriting much applause when she was done.

"And that's the most entertaining purpose I've found for my tongue so far!"

"I can think of more-"

"Shut up, Fred."

Anna tossed the cherry to Tiger after pulling off the knotted stem.

"Let's learn about our recent arrival now," Lee suggested. "I say we question our new first-year student." Everyone instinctively turned not to Emmy, but to Meghan.

"Um…question?" Meghan looked nervous.

"It's like Isaac Asimov's Black Widowers' Club," Lee explained. "You're our guest, so we ask you to justify your existence."

"And don't forget that I'm paying for your drink," Anna reminded her.

"But how do I justify my existence?"

"Well, how about justifying why you're going to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know." Meghan shrugged. "Because I can do magic?"

Grizabella purred, pawing at Meghan's drink.

"But what are you going to do at school besides magic?" Anna probed. "How are you going to make yourself stand out?"

"Like, what were you were known for at primary school?" Lee offered.

"Well…" Meghan lowered her eyes and nervously stirred a spoon around in her mug. "I was always this unbearable troublemaker, I suppose."

"Nope, sorry!" George shook his head. "You can't be the school's troublemaker because Fred and I already have that shared title."

Emmy giggled shrilly. Meghan gritted her teeth.

"I don't intend to make trouble, George," she answered coolly. "This time around, I'd rather make friends."

"Well, don't let us stop you," he sniggered. "Now, what else did you do?"

"I wore black clothes and dark makeup every day, and the miserable lard of a headmistress was always having a fit about it. I got into at least three fights a month, but they were always provoked. By someone else besides me, I mean. The popular girls in my class hated me, but that was all right, because I hated them too."

"What about the teachers?"

"The teachers didn't care much for me either. The only one who did like me was a certain Ms. Pacelli, our music instructor, because she thought I had talent or something. I played clarinet in concert band for her, and she cast me in some good roles in school plays. Those were the only times I ever liked school, because I like acting. But everyone else looked at me funny in the hallways, if they looked at all."

George shrugged. "So, you're a performer, then?"

"No, I was just strange."

"Nothing wrong with that. But Hogwarts doesn't do anything with acting."

"Oh."

"She's in the Flying Band, though." Anna announced. "I mean, you promised you'd be, didn't you, Meg?"

"Of course I did." Meghan smiled weakly.

"That settles it, then," Fred concluded. "This one here is a band girl!"

"I love band girls," Lee sighed, his face dreamy. "They're even better-looking than cheerleaders, and that's saying something."

"Does that mean I'll automatically be a looker when I join the band?"

"Naturally."

"Well, tell me what I am, then!" Emmy pleaded. "George, what do you think I'd be at school?"

"I don't know. A Quidditch star?"

"Oh George, you're so, so funny!" Emmy giggled and playfully nudged his arm. "Now tell me honestly, do you really think I'd be any good at playing Quidditch?"

"Absolutely." George shrugged apathetically and gulped down the last of his mulled cider. "Ah, now_ that_ was good."

"And so is Gryffindor House's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup, I hope." Fred turned to Anna. "What do you say- are George and I going to make the team this year and kick some Slytherin ass?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind." Anna absentmindedly dangled her knotted cherry stem in front of Grizabella. "You and George are a dream team."

"I think you're the best Quidditch players I know of!" Emmy exclaimed to George.

"I'll second that," said Lee. "Emmy hasn't met any others."

Anna chuckled.

* * *

The drink was very good, and the group companionship was far better, Meghan decided after their orders were paid. She blushed when Anna handed over the money for both their beverages, embarrassed because of the three Galleons she already owed. But Anna insisted that everything was fine, since Meghan had been unaware of the pub plans, anyway. Meghan knew better than to argue at this point, especially since she had very little wizard money left in her purse, aside from what Anna had recommended to save. 

Lee said his goodbye to everyone and ran off, and the others escorted Emmy back to Gambol and Japes', where they told Uncle Jake that they had all had a good time. Emmy bid everyone a wistful farewell until the first day of school, timidly asking them if they would spare a seat for her on the train. They assured her that they would, and set off again.

Meghan, Anna, the twins, Tiger, and Grizabella eventually met up with Trevor and Indiana after a quick look-around at Quality Quidditch Supplies. They all went back to Madam Malkin's together, where Meghan's mother observed her daughter's expensive animal purchase. Without scolding or asking any questions, she mercifully handed over some more money, advising Meghan once again to spend wisely. Meghan could not believe her good luck, so she decided it was best not to push it by saying anything about the clarinet.

They all exchanged their good-byes, and Fred stepped into the fireplace. When the green flames lit up, he shouted, "The Burrow!" and disappeared.

"I think Meghan should go up now, because she's new," George suggested. "Fred went in first to show everyone how it's done, and I'll go last, after everyone else is in."

"That's very considerate of you, George," Meghan's mother said kindly.

Meghan stepped into the fireplace, and George cast in a fistful of Floo powder. The green flames rose up and licked fiercely at her. Everyone looked at her expectantly.

"The Burrow!" Meghan shouted, careful to enunciate each syllable.

While the flames roared around her, she held her breath, feeling like she was being sucked through an enormous drain. She closed her eyes, spinning around and around and around for what felt like eternity.


	17. Bill's Story

From first sight, the Burrow proved to be a comfortable home for the numerous Weasley family members, and it was ready to take three more. Meghan, Anna, and Trevor were greeted with open arms by the twins' mother, who fussed over them and beckoned the rest of the family to make them welcome.

"This is my oldest son, Bill." Mrs. Weasley indicated a tall, lanky young man with a fang earring in one ear, long red hair in a ponytail, and a black Led Zeppelin tee shirt.

"You like muggle bands?" Meghan asked, amazed.

Bill nodded. "I'm most partial to Pink Floyd."

Grizabella meowed.

"And here we have Percy," Mrs. Weasley continued, with her hand on another boy's shoulder. This one appeared to be about Trevor's age, with horn-rimmed glasses and a cross face. "He's going into his fourth year at Hogwarts."

"Nice to meet you," said Percy, swatting at Indiana as the dog made a lunge for his sweater.

"My son Ron, who will be going to Hogwarts in another year," Mrs. Weasley continued, indicating a freckle-faced boy who was a year younger than Meghan, "and lastly, my daughter Ginny." An equally freckled girl with pretty brown eyes and a shy smile stepped forward. "She's my youngest, and she'll attend Hogwarts in two years. You girls will stay in her room. Trevor, you can sleep in Percy's room for the week.

"Aw, Mum," Percy whined.

"You heard me," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "We have _guests_ over, so I'm expecting everyone to cooperate. I know you're studying, but you'll still have the space you need. Now, kindly show Trevor up to your room. Ron, take those dogs and let them out into the yard. Ginny…" She pointed to Meghan and Anna.

Ginny nodded dutifully and motioned the other girls to follow her.

Anna and Meghan followed her up the stairs and into a room that was small and modestly decorated. A pot of African violets was sitting on the windowsill, next to a miniature tin watering can. An old writing desk was there, too, as was a striped and brightly-colored rug right by the door.

But the bed was the most noticeable aspect. For the most part, it was normal-looking, with its cozy quilt and pale green pillow-shams, but it was even bigger than most double beds, almost as wide as it was long.

"My mum says your stuff is in here," said Ginny, pulling open the closet door.

The closet was amazingly wide and deep, comfortably holding not only Ginny's clothes, but also all of Meghan and Anna's suitcases and their afternoon purchases. Meghan was happy to see that one of the items was her mother's clarinet case. Anna noticed it too, and she and Meghan grinned at each other.

Ginny closed the door.

"You can take the kitten downstairs so Mum can get it a bowl of milk," she said to Meghan. "But you'd better be quick at it. She's making a big supper tonight because you three and Bill are here. You'll love it- she's a really good cook."

There was already a faint smell of something delicious wafting up from downstairs.

"Bill works with the Gringotts bank, but he's staying here for the night because there are some repairs going on at his apartment. He has to share a room with Ron because Fred and George would play mean tricks on him if he slept in their room."

"So you have five brothers?" Meghan asked.

"Six. Our brother Charlie is younger than Bill, and he's a seventh-year student. But he has a special grant to complete school in Romania instead, and study dragons."

"Six brothers," Meghan said soberly, imagining six of Trevor. "I pity you."

"I'm used to it." Ginny shrugged. "Anyway, I usually only have to deal with four nowadays, but it's still crowded."

"I'll bet you get lots of room to toss and turn here, though," Anna commented, sitting down on the bed. She patted the mattress. "Is the size here supposed to compensate?"

"Oh no, it usually isn't that wide." Ginny smiled sheepishly. "Mum and Dad had to magically enlarge it yesterday so that there's more room, but it will only last for about a week. In the meantime, there's room for us three."

Grizabella leapt out of Meghan's arms and onto one of the pillows, burying her forehead into it. She yowled as she rolled around on the afghan, fitfully pawing at the air. The girls giggled.

"Make that four."

Mrs. Weasley turned out to be a very good cook indeed, and everybody enjoyed the baked fish that she proudly dished out. Even Grizabella got a piece of it, nibbling carefully from a plate that Mrs. Weasley had set at Meghan's feet. Indiana poked and prodded at Trevor's arm with his nose, hoping that he might have the same luck, until Mrs. Weasley shooed him out of the room.

"Excited to start at Hogwarts, Meghan?" Bill asked as he ladled a heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate. He had taken a liking to her ever since she had noticed his shirt.

Meghan shrugged, pushing green beans around on her plate with a fork.

Mr. Weasley, a thin and balding man sitting next to his wife, laughed.

"It must be that first-year anxiety. Lots of students are nervous when they first come in."

"Oh, I'm not nervous."

"She's just too shy to talk," Trevor explained.

"I _don't_ need you to speak for me," Meghan hissed. "I'll decide when to talk, not you."

"How's Madam Malkin's business going?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"It's going all right. But I suspect that Madam Malkin has some stiff competition going on right now."

"What do you mean by that?"

Before Trevor could cut in again, Meghan described the encounter with Mrs. Twillfit to everyone, cautiously omitting the part where Madam Malkin had said that the Wolf family might one day have the business.

"Really, I had no idea that the place had such enemies," Meghan remarked when she was done. "Mum never tells me what goes on at the shop, so I couldn't believe it when that woman stormed in, demanding to buy the place as if she already owned it!"

"I suppose you weren't meant to know these things," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "You are young, and she must not have wanted you to know if the business was being threatened."

"Why would the business be threatened?"

"Twillfit and Tatting's is a fairly upscale robe shop," Mr. Weasley explained. "Its prices are high, and it makes for strong competition. People like to buy from there, because displaying the shop's notorious brand name on their clothing is a luxury."

"Well, Madam Malkin says that Twillfit and Tatting's robes are overpriced, and that their quality is just an illusion."

"Madam Malkin is an honest woman," Mr. Weasley assured her, "but, of course, she certainly has a reason to be biased."

"Are Twillfit and Tatting's robes really all that good, or are they ripping people off, like Madam Malkin said?" Ginny asked her mother.

"I don't know, Ginny. It's not as if we can afford their robes either way."

"I saw Pansy Parkinson wearing a really pretty red satin robe once, and it was from Twillfit and Tatting's."

"I thought you didn't like Pansy Parkinson."

"I don't. She's an uppity, two-timing cheat. I just liked her robe."

"Well, I'm sure Madam Malkin's robes are very good, too."

"My mum wants to make the dress robes better," Meghan added. "She used to make designs for new ones, and they look really nice, but Madam Malkin would rather concentrate on school and everyday-wear robes. She says there's a better market for them, and that's what's selling best right now."

"Well, good for her," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "She wants her shop to cater to whatever the public wants at the time."

"That's what she said herself."

"Personally, I don't think much of Twillfit and Tatting's," Bill sniffed. "I think Madam Malkin is right- the place is snobbish and overpriced. Twillfit and Tatting's has been around for far longer than Madam Malkin's has, and it the owners think that that makes it elite."

"It's so stuck-up," Fred sneered. "Twillfit and Tatting's thinks that just because they slap their name on everything they make, it also means that they can charge you ten times what it's really worth."

"And there was this recent catalogue advertising the most _outlandish _clothing, if you can even call it that, and it bordered on pornography!" Mrs. Weasley's tone was becoming steadily fiercer as she spoke. "It was marketed toward teenagers, trying to sell them a lifestyle of promiscuous sexuality!"

Fred and George rolled their eyes.

"I hate it when she gets into that one," George muttered aside to Meghan.

"Well, just be thankful that your mother and Madam Malkin run a more honest and respectable business," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "Lest everyone have to go and buy the nonsensical trash that the other place sells."

"Now, how did we get to scandalous, overpriced robe shops?" Percy asked, annoyed. "I thought everyone was talking about school just a moment ago."

"Well, let's talk about school, then," Mr. Weasley said cheerily, happy to change the subject. "What would you like to do this year?"

Percy shrugged. "I don't know, just keep my marks up. I'm number one in the class as far as that goes, my conduct is perfect, and if it stays that way, I'll be a prefect next year."

George groaned.

"Which _means_ that I'll be able to keep a better watch on you two," Percy snapped at the twins.

"Well, that's a very good goal, Percy." Mr. Weasley beamed proudly, and then turned to Trevor. "And what would you like to do?"

"I'm trying to make the Quidditch team again, and work hard so we can win the Cup," Trevor answered airily. "I know we've got the talent."

Fred coughed insinuatingly, and George snickered. Percy glared at them both.

Mr. Weasley glared at them too. "All right, then, Fred, since you're such a know-it-all, what do_ you_ plan to do this year?

"Make the Quidditch team, of course. George and I will be a shoe-in."

"Well, I'm sorry that that's a bigger priority than minding your conduct."

"But we've got good marks!" George protested. "We just don't behave."

Mr. Weasley ignored him and turned to Anna.

"What do you want to do this year?"

"Get good marks and have fun," she replied.

"And be in the Flying Band," Meghan reminded her. "We're doing that together."

Anna glanced quickly over at the twins, and then down at her plate, where her eyes stayed.

"Of course."

"And you, Miss Meghan…what do you plan to do this year?"

"Join the Flying Band, with Anna," Meghan answered. "_And _stay out of trouble, I suppose."

"Well, in that case," sighed Mr. Weasley, "I hope Fred and George can learn a thing or two from you."

Meghan shrugged.

"Does anything cool ever happen at Hogwarts?" Ron piped up.

"Only when _we_ make it happen," George answered. "Other than that, it's a drag."

"It only depends on what professors you get," Fred added. "Some make it so easy to get away with anything and everything."

"George!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

He shrugged. "It's only the truth."

"Well, I don't need you to set a bad example for your younger brother and sister- not to mention Meghan."

Anna sniggered, and then tried to suppress it before Mrs. Weasley noticed.

"I'm serious, Mum," George grumbled. "Our last Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had these glasses that were so thick and covered with dust that he didn't even see Lee Jordan pitching a textbook across the room. And then he taught the same lesson for three days in a row, and gave us the same homework for three days in a row, and we all pretended not to notice."

"Well, you should have spoken up about it," huffed Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, it's not my fault that they hired a guy who had probably been legally dead for the past six years, like the Latin teacher." George shook his head. "I say the whole subject is useless."

"Do you really think that?" asked Bill raising his eyebrows.

"I mean, sure." George looked puzzled. "I've never needed it for anything, and I honestly think it's a blow-off class. Nothing cool ever happens in there. Did anything interesting ever happen while _you_ were there?"

"As a matter of fact, _yes_. I had a certain Professor Hartmann for that class one year, and she had some rather eye-opening things to share."

"Is this the same professor whose picture you took and put inside one of your old textbooks?"

"She was making a class demonstration. I don't know what you're getting at."

"I didn't say I was getting at anything."

"She must have been doing a lot of demonstrations," Fred commented with raised eyebrows. "I mean, I could swear that you had a tin full of her photographs. But I don't know what she was demonstrating in that other picture you have in your desk drawer."

"I didn't have a picture of her in my desk drawer!" Bill snapped.

"Yes, you did," Percy insisted. "I saw it myself."

"The one where she was standing outside, hair blowing in the wind, clad in a wispy blue sunrobe that showed off her arms…" George mused.

"I saw it too," said Ron.

"Me too," said Ginny.

"All right, maybe there _was_ such a picture," Bill huffed. "But that was a long time ago, and none of you should have been looking through my desk drawers!"

The twins sniggered, but Bill ignored them.

"Anyway, she left her position at the school after only one year. Actually, all the Defense teachers did. I think she left because she wanted to focus on raising a family or something lame like that. She was getting married to a longtime boyfriend none of us knew she had."

"I'll bet broke your heart," Fred muttered.

"I'll tell you what, Fred- I'm going to break your _neck_ if you don't shut the hell up!"

"Language, Bill!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"Well, anyway," Bill continued, "She brought in this famous guy, Gilderoy Lockhart, as a guest speaker, and I suspect it was just so she could fawn over him or something. _I_ thought he was kind of an idiot."

"Now, really, Bill…" Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at him.

"But to his credit, he actually did bring in an exhibit that interested me. He had this grisly-looking vampire in a big birdcage, and it was all shriveled and dead. It might not sound all that great, but it was really cool. It looked kind of waxy, because it was dead and everything, and it had these rotted yellow fingernails that were just about falling off. It was _so_ ugly and rotten, and its hair was all nasty and stringy, but that's what made it so neat. It was probably the most grotesque thing I've ever seen in my life, and that's saying something, considering the goblins I see at Gringotts."

Meghan was starting to feel uneasy, thinking of the Borgin and Burkes incident for the first time since Anna had led her out of Knockturn Alley. Glancing down at what remained on her plate, she didn't exactly feel ill, but she could sense her appetite waning by the second. It was not a feeling of sickness, but of a palpable unwholesomeness that made her feel very unhealthy. She pushed her plate forward.

"This was very delicious, Mrs. Weasley, but I think I've had enough. May I please be excused?"

Later, when the girls were getting ready for bed, Anna was combing back her hair that had been slicked down from a shower, Meghan was brushing out hers, and Ginny was pulling a nightgown over her head. Meghan and Anna had decided not to wear their new pajamas, because they wanted to save them for their first night at Hogwarts. Anna instead threw on an old Mickey Mouse nightshirt and a pair of shorts, while Meghan decided to sleep in her clothes, a habit which her mother thoroughly detested.

"So, how do you like this place?" Ginny asked the other two.

"I like it well enough," Meghan answered, rubbing astringent onto her face with a cotton ball. She pointed to the bottle from which it came. "Is this our hazel?"

"What do you mean?"

"It says 'witch hazel', so is it our hazel?"

"I don't know."

"That's a dumb old joke," Anna grumbled.

"So, you don't mind that we all have to share a bed tonight?" Ginny asked nervously.

"As long as Meghan puts socks on her ice-cold feet," Anna muttered.

"Well, what do you think about the house?" Ginny asked. "Is it all right and everything?"

"Well, sure, it's all right." Meghan put a cap on the witch hazel. "I mean, our dogs will like the space and everything, and it's nice to have more than just a mum and a brother around."

"Or my little sister," Anna added. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering." Ginny pulled her flaming red hair out of a ponytail, sending it cascading down her shoulders.

"Your family must have a reputation for that hair," Meghan commented. "With everyone being a redhead, you know."

"We do," Ginny laughed. "We're 'that redheaded Weasley family with all those kids,' as everyone says. It's really cool to be so different."

_Wish they thought that way at Sir Walter Raleigh,_ Meghan thought bitterly.

"So, when you go to Hogwarts in two years, everyone will know who you are?"

"I'm not sure about that." Ginny shrugged. "It's a rather big school, because it has more than just the United Kingdom's witches and wizards attending. In fact, I hear that it has an immigrant population second only to that of the Salem Institute in the United States."

"Really?" Anna seemed surprised. "We don't have all that many immigrants- just a handful, I think. Why would there be so many at Hogwarts?"

"There aren't all that many, exactly, but Mum says it's because the headmaster is rumored to be the world's most powerful wizard, maybe even more powerful than…" Her voice faltered. "…You-Know-Who."

"Professor Dumbledore, eh? So, _he's_ the reason why people from other parts of the world go there?"

"And to the United States, because of its renowned diversity, yes." Ginny's eyes became wistful. "Me, personally, I wouldn't care where I to go to school, as long as it's-" Her voice suddenly became astonishingly magnified. "AWAY FROM THIS PLACE."

She was standing by the door now, and though she was not shouting, her words sounded as if they were blaring through a megaphone. Shrill, high-pitched screeching noises followed, and the girls all covered their ears.

Anna ran over to where Ginny was standing, and her words were amplified, too.

"I THINK IT'S COMING FROM OUTSIDE THE ROOM!"

"I'LL BET IT'S THE TWINS…"

"ARE YOU SURE?"

Meghan pulled the door open, and surely enough, there were two telltale heads of red hair running away, cackling down the hall.

"I knew it was those boys," Ginny huffed, stomping over to the dresser. "They think that just because there are girls over, they can spy on us!"

"How were they spying on us?" Meghan asked, looking curiously back at the door.

"Oh, it's some stupid experiment they've been doing since sometime ago. Something like 'ear extenders', which are supposed to amplify people's conversations for spying purposes. Technically, they must be working, but I think the idea is to be discreet about it."

"It looks like they could use a little fine-tuning in that area," Anna grumbled.

"Ah, forget it." Ginny climbed into bed. "I don't know why they want to listen to our conversations so badly, but it only shows that they don't have anything good to talk about themselves."

"Boys are dumb," Meghan lamely agreed, crawling in after Ginny.

"No, just my brothers are dumb."

"Hey!" Anna snapped. "Don't forget that I'm _dating_ one of your brothers."

"Speaking of brothers," said Ginny, ignoring Anna, "How old is Trevor?"

"Fifteen going on fifty."

"He's cute," Ginny giggled.

"Aw…" Meghan groaned in disgust and turned away. "He's arrogant and annoying. He tells all these damned stories about Hogwarts to show me up and make me jealous for not going there yet. I'll bet half of it isn't even true."

"What about Bill's story?" Anna sat on the bed and pulled back the cover. "Did you think that was true?"

"What, you mean about the dead vampire?"

"Well, yeah. We never got to see anything that cool in class. George was right; Defense Against the Dark Arts is a drag. At least we're supposed to have a new professor this year."

"What happened to the old one?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know- probably wandered out into the forest and got eaten up by a wild animal, I'd say. But who cares? He was the most boring professor ever."

"Don't you wish that you could see a real vampire, though?"

Meghan grew uneasy, wishing more than anything that Ginny had not asked. Anna didn't say it out loud, but Meghan knew that she was thinking of Knockturn Alley.

"I don't know, maybe." Anna shrugged. "Let's just turn out the light and go to sleep?"

Outside, there was a crackle of thunder in the sky, and Meghan shivered.

Raindrops trickled down the window, scattering moonlight as they hit the glass.

In the darkness of the room, Meghan had a sleeping body on either side of her, but she still felt hopelessly frightened and alone. She glanced out the window above Ginny's desk, and when she looked for long enough at the pale moon, she imagined that it had turned into Sanguini's face, growing bigger and brighter, and coming closer and closer and closer…

But then it wasn't Sanguini. It was nameless, fanged and hard and deathly empty, waiting for Meghan to go to sleep so that it could pounce.

Meghan shut her eyes as tightly as she could, shuddering when she felt its cold hands slip around her throat. In her mind's eye, she could see its silvery fingers reaching in through window and feel its icy breath crawling on her neck. Her throat tightened.

_Scream all you want, dearie! It's what you want to do, but it won't do you no good! Your little friends won't hear a thing, and when I'm finished with you, I'll invite _them _to join the fun! Oh, you're all such precious little children, so very pretty and precious…_

There was the familiar laughter again, the cackling and the screeching, and then came the red. The red haze that she had remembered was now blood, dripping in through the window and seeping under the doors, washing over the floor, and splashing onto the bedcovers.

Then the dresser started shaking, and the bottles on top of it rattled so loudly that Meghan thought she would go insane. Then they all fell off, _ploink!_, _plonk!_,_ splash!_, into the sea of blood that had by now risen almost to the level of the bed.

Anna and Ginny were no longer there. When Meghan turned her head to look for them they were gone, leaving flat spaces on the bed where they had been lying.

_No one to protect you, precious, you can't escape us now…_

Meghan shivered and yanked the covers over her head, trying to block all sight and sound. But she could still hear the monstrous voice.

_Cold, dearie? Why, what a pity, what a shame!_

She felt the covers being pulled off, and as tight a grip as she had on them, they were easily torn from her hands.

_Why, it isn't right to let a guest stay cold…especially a lovely little thing like you. Shall I warm you up?_

Meghan covered her ears and fiercely shook her head, but she couldn't stop what was about to happen. Tongues of fire, sprung up from nowhere, were now licking at the foot of the bed, and hissing their way up to her. What was yet uncovered of the dresser by the red sea burst into flames, lighting up the whole room. Now she could see, perfectly and clear, Ginny's head of red hair and Anna's head sandy hair floating in blood.

The flames had consumed the bedcovers and were now searing her. She was covered in fire. It was in her hair, all over her clothes, all around her. There were no bedroom walls, no window, no rain anymore, just fire and viscous red blood.

And as she was choking on the smoke, the face on the moon was closing in on her, its jaws opening, and its horrible fangs bearing down to sink into her neck.

Just as Meghan was about to scream, she snapped awake and automatically sat up straight in bed.

The room was back in place, with no fire and no red sea, just wood walls and a rain-streaked windowpane with the moon shining through. And blissful coolness and darkness. And pure silence, except for the monotone _plink-_ing of the raindrops outside. The dresser and the bottles on it were still there, and Anna and Ginny were sleeping peacefully by her side.

The voice was gone.

Meghan lay back down, and not until her head touched the pillow did she realize that she was drenched in cold sweat. She took a deep breath, pulled the covers tightly over herself, and closed her eyes.

She did not dream for the rest of the night.


	18. Ginny

The nightmare was all but forgotten the next morning, and the week ahead was filled with school preparations. Meghan was a bit of a perfectionist with her insistence on having everything "just so", so that absolutely nothing would go wrong on her first day of school. She painstakingly washed and ironed her school robes, blouses, tights, and skirt, hanging them up when they were done, and neatly shutting them into her brand new packing trunk lest they got wrinkled or touched by a single speck of dirt before school started.

While Indiana and Tiger frolicked out in the spacious yard of the Weasley household, Meghan washed and groomed Grizabella, and all six of the children going to Hogwarts the next week trimmed the feathers of their owls and cleaned the cages. Almost all of the items that would be taken along on the train to school were packed away in their trunks, including Meghan's new wand, which she longed to try out right away instead.

Nevertheless, her attention was well-occupied by other things she had never done before. Here at the Burrow, she helped clear gnomes out of the garden, when she had not even known before that gnomes really existed! She also helped Mrs. Weasley with all the chores in the odd house and took note of all her curious magical surroundings, like a pan that fried things by itself, or the clock on the wall displaying all the faces of the Weasley family on the hands and their whereabouts. The week quickly passed in a flurry of excitement.

On the day before they were to go to Hogwarts, the year's schoolbooks were being studied by Meghan out of curiosity and by Anna, Fred, and George out of necessity.

"We got this parchment assignment over the summer," Fred grimly told Meghan as they were all gathered outside under the shade of an oak tree to study. "Naturally, I waited until the last minute to do it."

"Oh, screw this," George grumbled. He got up on his feet suddenly and threw aside his book. "I'd rather be playing Quidditch."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "I'd be making better use of my time if I could improve my game and make the team this year."

"But you've only got your paper half-done, Fred!" Anna protested. "You don't want to mess up your first grade of the year!"

"I always manage." Fred shrugged. "How much do_ you_ have done?"

"Well, since I haven't_ procrastinated _the whole week, unlike some- just a paragraph left."

"Let's go to it, then! I think a round of Quidditch would suit us all well."

"Fred, no-"

"I thought you wanted to improve your game for the year."

Anna pursed her lips at Fred, and then looked down at her parchment. After a moment, she gingerly laid it aside in the grass.

"One match, and then back to work.

George was already on his way to the broom shed.

They couldn't play a full game with only four players, so Fred and George decided to focus on throwing and combating Bludgers. They hurled the Bludgers around while Anna and Meghan competed to catch the Snitch. (Anna won most of the time, but had to admit that Meghan put up a stiff fight.) In the meantime, their schoolbooks and parchment work were still lying under the oak tree, completely forgotten.

One match turned into three, which turned into five, and before the players realized it, their afternoon was fading. The sun started to sink in the sky, washing it in radiant splashes of orange, pink and purple. It was becoming progressively darker, but the four did not notice until Meghan saw a tiny figure on the ground whose hair flashed even more brilliantly red than usual in the sunset.

"Mum says you all have to come in!" Ginny shouted. "It's time for supper!"

Anna, Fred, and George groaned and flew over to the oak to gather up their school books, leaving Ginny and Meghan standing alone on the empty field. The flashes of orange were disappearing at the horizon; the sky was mostly violet now.

Meghan packed away the Bludgers and Snitch, and then turned to the Quaffle, which had been abandoned hours ago in favor of the other balls. She picked it up, flew back up into the air on her broom, and tossed it down to Ginny. The latter, not batting an eye, cleanly caught it with her raised hand.

"You're good." Meghan was impressed. "You should have been playing with us."

"I can't," Ginny shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Fred and George won't let me." Ginny was looking at the ground, trying not to meet Meghan's eyes. "They say they don't want their little sister in their games."

Meghan was taken aback, angry that her own friends would treat their sister this way. It was true that she had many a time witnessed Anna teasing her own little sister, but somehow, it just wasn't the same.

She gulped.

"I-I'm sorry, Ginny," she stammered. "Your brothers have no right to be mean to you like that. At least I don't think so. If you had asked to play with us earlier, I would have made them include you in the game."

"They still wouldn't let me," Ginny insisted, eyes still on the ground.

"They would if _I_ told them to," Meghan replied, walking closer to her.

Ginny didn't say anything, and Meghan, somehow suspecting what the other girl was thinking, said, "I bet you'll be lonely when your brothers go off to school."

Ginny didn't answer, but when she looked up Meghan could see that her eyes were unmistakably wet.

"I just don't know what to do around here!" The tears were streaming down Ginny's cheeks. "Since everyone's going away to school tomorrow, I'll be stuck at home with nobody to play with!"

Meghan didn't know what to say.

"I just want to be accepted somewhere!" she continued. "I want to do what my brothers do, but they won't let me. I want other girls around this place, but after you and Anna leave, there won't be any!"

"Don't you see anybody else during the school year?" Meghan asked. "I mean, is the Burrow really where you stay all the time?"

"Not really," Ginny sighed. "I learn vocabulary and maths and things like that at home so that I'm ready for magic school, but Mum takes me to see other girls."

"Aren't they good enough?"

"No! I don't like them! I only see them because they're the daughters of some of Mum and Dad's distant relatives, and I don't even think they like those relatives, either. Mum only sees them because she has to bargain with them for secondhand school books, because we can't afford brand new ones from the store. Anyway, some of these relatives are supposed to be really wealthy, and they treat us like scum. I know they don't like us because we're poor."

"Ginny…"

"And the daughters are so nasty! Like, there's this one girl named Pansy. She always brags about how her family is so rich and can afford to buy her anything she wants. She only cares about clothes and boys, and she thinks she's so pretty just because she has blond hair."

Meghan was fleetingly reminded of the Furies, especially Laurie Lyn, and was tempted to ask, "Well, why didn't you stick a wad of gum in it?"

Ginny kept going. "And then there was Millicent, who was really ugly, and was _never_ friendly at all. She once tackled me to the ground, and then just sat on me, rubbing dirt in my face. And she's really fat, too, so it hurt. And then there was Medea, who called my father a dirty muggle-lover."

"Were they really all that mean?" Meghan asked, horrified.

"Well, there are nice ones, like my friend Hannah Abbott," Ginny admitted, "but she isn't one of the friends I'm looking for. She prefers boring things, like paper dolls and playing house. I think she's all right, but I just don't fit in well as well with her as I'd like. I'd rather be with people like you and Anna."

"Aw, Ginny, you don't really mean that."

"But I do! I want to play Quidditch, learn magic…all those things that you do in school."

"But you have your brother Ron for company," Meghan pointed out, lamely.

"It's not the _same_," Ginny said in earnest. "I want _girls_ who are just like _me, _and I want to see them more often than I do That's why I like you and Anna. You don't play with paper dolls. You play Quidditch with my brothers.

"And that's why I practice my game when my brothers aren't around. I want to get good and be just like them…"

"And you feel like you have something to prove," Meghan added.

Ginny paused, and then said, "Well…yeah."

"And you just want to stop having to fight for a place in this world," Meghan finished. Without waiting for Ginny's affirmative she continued, "But don't worry, Ginny, you're not the only one. _I_ know what it's all like. Trust me, I really do. You just have to wait, you know."

Ginny was silent, so Meghan didn't say anything more. Instead, she hugged Ginny, and they stood there for a few moments in silence.

The sky was now fairly dark, a maroon-and-purple haze dotted with stars. The two girls walked back to the house together, where the smells of Mrs. Weasley's cooking welcomed them inside.

Ginny and Meghan did not speak did not speak very much to each other during supper, aside from such things as politely asking to pass the salt. But Meghan now knew that Ginny was one of her own kind, even if she hadn't seemed that way before. Although Anna had been Meghan's first real friend, it was in Ginny that she finally saw the only person who was just like herself in her loneliness and longing for better things.

* * *

After supper, Percy, Trevor, Fred, George, Anna, Meghan, Ron, and Ginny all scurried upstairs to get to bed. After Meghan brushed her teeth, she went back to Ginny's room. To her surprise, Ginny greeted her at the door with a hug.

Meghan said nothing, but only climbed into the bed in which she had one last night to sleep.

Sleep she did, then, but the night wasn't yet over.


	19. The Car Ride

It was still summer, so the window in Ginny's room was left wide open to let in cool night air. The breeze whipped the patched-up curtains around and washed over the girls as they slept. Meghan could sleep in peace tonight, because there was not so much as a hint of rain or thunder in the sky. She still dreamed though, but this dream was not the same kind as what came on the stormy nights. This was more pleasant. There was a lady in it, but it wasn't the vampire woman of other times. This new one was kinder and gentler, and her velvety black hair was streaked brilliantly with gold. She was beautiful, and she was rocking Meghan in her arms, and that was all Meghan knew.

And even though it wasn't a nightmare this time Anna was shaking her awake. Meghan's eyes fluttered open when she heard Anna calling her name in a low whisper. At first Meghan had thought that she was still looking at the mysterious lady, but coming to consciousness she realized that it was only her best friend.

Meghan rubbed her eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Not so loud," Anna whispered. "We're going out tonight, but you _have_ to be as quiet as you possibly can."

"_What_?" Meghan looked up and saw Fred and George standing by the door, looking at her in earnest. Ginny was still asleep beside her, looking very pale in the soft glow of the moonlight that illuminated her skin. She had a raggedy stuffed dragon tucked away in her arm.

Meghan turned her eyes back to the other three.

"We're going out tonight," Anna said softly. "Fred and George think that we should have one last adventure before school starts and take their family car for a drive."

"What are you _talking _about?" Meghan's eyes grew wide. "It's probably after midnight, and none of us are older than twelve! Just how are we supposed to-"

"Not so_ loud_!" Anna hissed, although she was still careful to keep the volume down. "Just come on out with us, and don't say another word!"

"What are you all doing?" piped up a small voice beside Meghan.

Anna turned around to see that Ginny had just awoken, and she was staring at everyone in curiosity.

"Nothing!" Fred snapped. "Nothing that concerns _you_, at any rate. We just wanted to deliver something to Meghan that she left in our room, that's all…"

"What?" Meghan cried out in disbelief.

But Ginny already knew that Fred was lying.

"I heard something about taking the car out," Ginny said accusingly. "That's what you all plan to do, isn't it?"

"If you must know…yes," George answered her, irritated.

"Well, why didn't you say so before?" Ginny exclaimed in a hushed, but gleeful tone. She started to climb out of bed. "Where are we going?"

"Hold on," George said in a stern whisper. "Just what do you mean by '_we_'?"

"_We're_…going out on a…car ride," Ginny said very slowly.

"The rest of us are," Fred interrupted. "But _you _are not."

Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"Yes I _will_," she retorted, trying to be firm.

"No you won't," George snapped back. "You're too loud, you're too young, and you're only going to cause trouble. Now go back to sleep."

"If I don't get to go, I'll tell Mum and Dad on you!" Ginny threatened. She was breathing heavily and clutching onto her stuffed dragon, knowing that she had just used her only real weapon.

"Oh, so you want to play it that way?" George's voice became menacing. His face tightened as he walked over to Ginny's bedside.

"Ginevra," he said slowly, kneeling so he could look his sister straight in the face. "Can you guess why we would _not_ want to take you along on this trip?"

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name, isn't it? Now tell me, why wouldn't we want to take you along?"

Ginny did not say anything, so George answered his own question.

"It is because you are a little _kid_."

"I am_ not_ a little kid!" Ginny growled. "I'm only a little younger than you are!"

"I'm twelve and you're only nine," George responded coolly. "And you don't_ act_ the way we do. See, even right now you're hugging a stupid stuffed animal, because it's your only friend. Just like a little kid." He shook his head in dismay. "How pathetic."

Ginny's darkening face made it clear to Meghan that George had crossed the line.

"George…" she warned nervously.

"Come to think of it, I should take that germy old rag and toss it out the window!" George sneered. "It wouldn't matter, because Mummy and Daddy could always get their pwecious wittle Ickle Ginnykins a _new_ best fwiend! Let's hope it's a damned stuffed _unicorn_ this time! Just make sure it isn't real."

Ginny's eyes were welling up with tears of anger, and her hands were balled into skinny little fists.

"Yeah, see? You're going to cry now, just like a baby would…" George added maliciously.

Ginny hurled the stuffed dragon at the wall, where it made a loud thumping sound, and even George was taken aback.

Anna was quick. Sensing that Ginny was about to scream, she hissed, "All _right_, George, that's _enough_! Just take Ginny along so she doesn't tell on us!"

"I give up," George sighed. He covered his forehead with his hands.

Fred stepped forward. "All right, then, Ginny," he said gruffly. "Put some slippers on so nobody hears your loud, tromping feet, and _don't say a word_. Got that?"

Ginny said nothing, but quietly rose from the tangled mess of her bed sheets.  
The twins walked toward the door without even looking at her.

Anna followed them out of the room, pausing at the doorway to turn back to Meghan and Ginny.

"Are you two coming or not?"

Meghan looked at Ginny's eyes, which were still blazing from George's hateful words. Deep inside, Meghan was also burning with fury, for the things he had said had struck a chord in her soul. She had seen the twins as people who might protect her from bullies if the need ever arose. But George had just been the bully, treating his own sister little better than Meghan had been treated by the Furies back in primary school.

Meghan gave Ginny an understanding pat on the back and led her out of the room.

* * *

After a tedious and silent creep down the stairs, they made their way to the garage, where the twins somehow noiselessly opened it. 

As the girls followed them inside, Meghan nervously glanced back at the house they had just left, where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Percy, and Trevor were still sleeping. Hopefully, they would remain so for the rest of the night.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" she nervously asked George as he opened the Ford Anglia's front door.

"Absolutely," George said pleasantly, as if the furious spat in Ginny's bedroom had never happened. "Hop in."

Meghan climbed into the car, followed by Ginny, and then Fred. Anna went in after him, and George, the last one into the spacious vehicle, held up a key and declared, "Tonight, the driving privileges are mine!"

He slammed the door shut and slid the key into the ignition.

The engine started up, rattling loudly, and Meghan hoped that the rest of the family sleeping back in the house would not hear the noise. She also felt guilty for participating in this certain rule-breaking. But Fred and George did not seem worried in the least, and Meghan suspected that this was not the first time they had taken the car out at night without permission.

"Is the coast clear?" George asked, and, without waiting for anyone to answer, he pulled the car out of the garage.

"Are you sure that you know what you're doing?" Anna asked, anxiously glancing out of the Ford Anglia's rear-view mirror as it rumbled down the driveway.

"Of course I know what I'm doing," George reassured her as he carefully turned the car around. "Now look at what I'm doing next!"

Meghan's heart flew into her throat as George slammed on the brakes. As they sped forward, Ginny let out a small shriek and instinctively clung onto Meghan.

"Scared, are we?" George asked, grinning spitefully at his sister.

The car was still speeding as it left the driveway and started onto the road, but Ginny immediately let go of Meghan and sat up straight.

"I am _not_ scared," she snapped, glowering at George. "I was startled, that's all."

"Well, prepare to _really_ be scared, then," George returned, leering. "The fun tonight will only begin in a couple of minutes."

The car was still crusading down the road at full speed, and George was concentrating on the rear-view mirror, waiting for the Burrow to be completely out of sight. When at last he was absolutely sure that it was, he warned the others.

"Get ready…"

He clutched onto the steering wheel.

"Get set…" He took one last look behind him, and…

"Go!" he shouted, his voice causing everyone else to jump in surprise. George jammed on the accelerator with his foot, and Meghan closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, as if to anticipate what would happen next.

She felt a tingling, rising sensation as she held fast to her seat. She also felt Ginny's warm hand holding onto hers, and it made her feel better.

"What are we _doing_?" said Anna.

"We're flying!" Ginny breathed.

Meghan opened her eyes. That rising sensation had not been imagined. The car was indeed going upward: the tires no longer touched a road, but Meghan could hear them make a whirring sound as they rose up into the air.

She breathed heavily in and out as the car rose upward and into the sky, leaving the cosmic weight of the world behind her.

Looking out the window in front of her, she gasped to see the vast countryside right below. From up above, everyone could get an ample view of the trees, the fields, and ponds shrinking far beneath them in the faint light of the moon. The windows were open, and the breeze whipped through Meghan's dark, near-raven hair, Ginny's fiery red hair, and Anna's straw-colored hair, running over everyone's faces, sweeping the tiredness out of their eyes.

George slowed the car down, and everyone looked up and out the windows to see the night sky all around them. The multitude of stars in every direction was so amazing to Meghan that she eased up on her breathing and forgot to be afraid. She looked straight into the glowing pearl of a moon, and she felt the lines of a poem from long past creep to her lips:

_But, Cynthia, should to Thee the palm be giv'n,  
Queen both for beauty and for majesty._

But no one seemed to have heard her, not even Ginny, whose head was now relaxing on Meghan's shoulder as they quietly took in the view.

Meghan had never felt so small and so big at the same time. She was small because she was so aware of the two great expanses, earth and sky, below and above her. She was big because she and her friends had the power to surmount the world, rising above it all. She felt the rare, but inexplicably wonderful feeling of being completely invincible and in control, even though George was the one driving the car.

The wind swished against the sides of the car as George weaved it around in circles and figure-eights. The effect was dizzying, for although Meghan was becoming accustomed to floating in midair, George's erratic navigation was making her feel like she was on a roller coaster. She had only been on a roller coaster once, back when she lived in the United States, and she hadn't liked it at all. She was relieved when Fred volunteered to take control of the wheel, insisting that it was his turn.

George grumbled something under his breath as Fred climbed over Anna and nudged him out of the way. George, in turn, climbed over Fred and then Anna, who was looking rather disgruntled by now, and sat next to Ginny.

"Pardon me," he said coolly to her. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips into a tight frown. Without a word, she crawled over Meghan's lap to get away from George. She then crossed her arms, not looking at her brother.

"Be that way, then," George said cheerily. He scooted closer to Meghan and put his arm around her. "I suppose I'll just have to sit next to this pretty lady right here."

"Knock it off, George!" Meghan snapped. "Ginny's not the only one in this car who's mad at you!"

"Well, _sorry_, then." George was taken aback, and he withdrew his arm from around her. Meghan thought that she could hear Ginny smirk, and she immediately regretted her outburst. Not knowing what else to do, she turned away from George, and was met with the thankful encouragement of Ginny's sparkling eyes.

For a moment, Meghan simply stared off into space, not knowing what else there was to see. The bitterness of the moment had spoiled the up-close beauty of the night sky that had enthralled her only moments ago. She was angry at George for how he had treated Ginny, but she also felt bad for having yelled at him. He was her friend, after all. While it didn't seem fair that Ginny was treated like a small child just because she was the youngest and only girl in her family, neither did it seem quite right to Meghan that she be so snippy with George. But she didn't know what else to do.

She vaguely heard Fred announce that they were going to land the car, because they were stopping for ice cream.

"Ice cream?" Anna mumbled sleepily. "Who has a bloody ice cream shop open at this hour?

"I suppose somebody does," Fred shrugged. "It's only a bit after one."

"It's still awfully late."

"Well, it's good enough for us. Luckily, brother George and I always carry some muggle money on us in times like these."

Meghan felt around for her wallet in the pocket of her trousers. It was fortunate that she had worn them to bed, for otherwise, she wouldn't have had any money with her.

Fred slowly landed the car in a shady area. Meghan felt a slight, but somewhat delightful sense of weightlessness as the car went down- something like being in a lift while it was descending, but much more intense. The car hit the ground with a jolt, shaking everybody out of the gentle sleepiness that had blanketed over them. Fred smiled ruefully.

"Sorry."

He stopped the car and opened the door, allowing himself and Anna to get out. Ginny scrambled out the door on her side to catch up with them, leaving Meghan and George alone in the car, the former nervously fumbling around for her wallet.

George looked at Meghan in disdain and tapped his foot on the floor, arms crossed.

"I'm waiting for an explanation," he said flatly.

Meghan turned to face him, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, what explanation do you need?"

"You didn't have to yell at me," George insisted.

"_You_ didn't have to be so nasty to Ginny," Meghan retorted.

"Hey, it's not my fault that she's only a little kid!"

"Well, it's not _her_ fault that she can't go to school with you to make some friends!"

"Mum and Dad have her meet other girls during the school term."

"She doesn't like them."

"Too bad."

"Too bad? George, don't you _care _about you own sister?"

"She's annoying."

"She wants _attention_."

"Well, she's going about it the wrong way, then!" George snapped.

"So…" Meghan looked pointedly at George, crossing her arms across her chest. "What would be the right way to go about it, then?"

George was silent.

"Well, answer me, won't you?" Meghan prodded. "Does she have to have exceptional Quidditch talent or something to get your respect? Oh, that's _right_…I forgot! She's not allowed to play with you!"

"Meghan…"

"But you would never give her a chance at anything, would you?"

"Meghan, please…"

"What if you were the only boy in a family full of girls- how would you like it?"

"Meghan! Please!" George was holding his head in his hands as he spoke. "Meghan, it's not that I hate my sister, but I'd rather be with people my own age, all right?"

"What you said to her in the bedroom tonight was inexcusable…"

"Well, she drives me _insane_!" George interrupted. "I hate it when she always wants to tag along with us!"

"Well, what can _she_ do?" Meghan cried out, almost hysterically. "You don't know what it's like to be the youngest sibling in your family, with nobody else around to be with you. You don't know what it's like to be stuck with only nasty, stupid kids who hate you, while your older brothers go off with_ real_ friends to magic school. George, you have never been lonely. You've always had Fred. But Ginny has no one."

Meghan paused, turned her back to George, and quietly added:

"_I_ had no one. And I hated it, just like I know Ginny hates it now."

There was a long pause, and then George said in a reluctant, small voice, "I'm sorry, Meghan. I didn't know it _was_ that way for you. I always thought you had Anna."

"Not since last school term." Meghan turned to face George as she said this, and she caught a glow of sincerity in his eyes that almost made her heart melt.

"George, I didn't mean to get mad at you; it's just…"

"Don't worry about it." George waved his hand in dismissal.

"George," Meghan said gently, "Your sister is a really special person, and I just know that if you give her a chance to prove what she's worth, she'll…"

"I _know_," George said gruffly. "Fred and I really do love our sister, as much of a pain as she is sometimes. But things just happen sometimes."

"Hey!" Fred called out from without the open window of the car. "Do you two plan to quit shagging and come along with us at some point?"

George grinned and pushed the car door open so forcefully that he knocked Fred backward onto the ground.

"Asshole," he muttered.

Meghan giggled.

The two climbed out of the car. Meghan shut the door behind her, and they proceeded to follow Anna and Ginny, with Fred trailing behind them, grumbling.

The five made their way out of the shady, somewhat wooded area, and into an almost deserted parking lot bordered by a short row of stores.  
"There," Fred said, pointing to a little brick building. It had a glowing sign in the shape of an ice cream cone, in a faintly lit window. _O'BRIEN'S FINE ICE CREAM & YOGURT_, it said. _OPEN UNTIL 2a.m_.

"So it's not too late," Anna mused.

"This is the only place that stays open this late at night," Fred explained. "I think it's because Old Man O'Brien has incurable chronic insomnia, but we can never be sure."

The inside of the store was nearly empty, so there was no need for any waiting. Tim O'Brien, the clerk at the counter, was a grouchy and bald old Irish fellow with a pipe in his mouth and a fringe of white whiskers adorning his chin. He peered at the new arrivals through a crooked set of glasses, looking none too pleased at having to wait on this pack of unruly-looking children so late at night.

Anna assertively stepped up to the counter after a quick glance at the menu.

"Good evening, sir," she chirped politely. "I think I would like to have a-"

"Good _evening_?" the clerk interrupted. "Young lady, it is exactly 1:17 in the morning, and you call this _evening_?

"Close enough," Anna reasoned simply.

"Well, this is about the time I usually close up the shop," the clerk growled.

"It can't be." Anna pointed to the window. "The sign out there says you're open until two. You've still got 43 minutes."

"Close enough," the clerk retorted. "Now, aren't you kids supposed to be at home with your parents at this hour?"

Meghan felt a little uneasy. She hadn't checked to see if there were any curfew laws at Ottery St. Catchpole-assuming that they _were_ still in Ottery St. Catchpole.

But Anna wasn't swayed. "My parents aren't so far away…" she coolly argued. "In fact, they're outside, only a short distance away. You see, we're all taking a nice car trip into the countryside to finish off our vacation before school starts, and my mum sent us all in here to buy something for ourselves. I think it's just to make us shut up for a little while, but at any rate, we're here." She smiled sweetly at the old man.

The clerk suspiciously eyed Anna through his glasses. She seemed to be a pretty girl, about twelve years old. He didn't trust pretty twelve-year-old girls, though. In his opinion, the only thing useful to do with them was to deal them all a good whipping, and permanently ship them off to Scotland.

"Forget it, Anna," Fred chided. "This isn't worth the trouble. Let's just go and tell your mum that we should go somewhere else, because this place won't serve us." He started toward the door.

"Now hold on a moment, there!" the clerk bellowed. "I didn't say it was closing time _yet_!"

Fred grinned and turned back to the counter. He had cleverly supposed that it would only have been a matter of time before the old man could smell five customers' worth of business.

"I would like two scoops of butter pecan in a sugar cone," Anna ordered.

"Coming right up." The clerk nodded and turned to Meghan. "You, miss?"

"The same, I suppose." Meghan hesitated. "Except…strawberry, please."

The twins ordered -Rocky Road for Fred, and chocolate chip for George- and kept the clerk busy with the four requests, while their recipients dug into their pockets for some change. Finally, only Ginny remained, looking puzzled and unsure. Meghan was about to pay for Ginny's order, because she was sure that the girl had not brought any money with her. To her surprise, however, George stepped forward and told Ginny that he would pay for what she wanted.

"Why?" she demanded suspiciously. "Are you playing a trick or something?"

"Ginny, I am not playing a trick," George insisted. "I want to make up for yelling at you and saying that you wouldn't get any friends."

Ginny looked over to Meghan for approval, and Meghan nodded.

"Well, all right," Ginny decided. Then she grudgingly added, "Thanks, George."

And to the clerk: "I would like some cherry-vanilla swirl ice cream in a cone. Please."

The clerk nodded, and Meghan, feeling much better now, drew a fiver out of her pocket to pay for her ice cream.

The weather was still warm, being that it was late summer, and it was Fred's idea that everybody finish their ice cream outside. In fact, he knew just the perfect place to hang out, only a little ways away from the car. Nobody disputed the idea, so Fred led the way.

* * *

About half an hour later they had finished their ice cream and were all on the damp grass beside a still pond. Anna and Fred were on one side of a shady oak tree, looking up at the stars. Fred had an arm draped around Anna's shoulders and was playing with her hair. Ginny was lying alone, her flaming red hair spread out on the grass, tracing the Big Dipper with her finger in an almost-trancelike state. Meghan and George were sitting at the edge of the pond, their jeans pulled up to their knees, blissfully cooling their feet in the water. 

Meghan was starting to feel tired, so she absentmindedly rested her head on George's shoulder. George draped his arm around her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For making up with Ginny." Meghan yawned and stretched her arms.

"I don't want to talk about my sister anymore," George said. "I would rather talk about other things."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know." George yawned. "School, maybe?"

"_You_ want to talk about school?" Meghan eyed him suspiciously. "Since when do you care about that?"

"Since when should I _not_ care about where I'll be spending the next ten months?" George returned in protest. "Besides, Fred and I have pranks to play, the Quidditch team to make this year on our very lives…"

"Some school work, maybe…" Meghan added in.

"If we have time," George allowed. "And we also have this really crabby caretaker named Argus Filch whom we have to annoy," George continued. "You'll meet him later."

"Please. No faculty member at Hogwarts can be worse than the ones at _my_ old school," Meghan laughed. "They were pissy as hell, I tell you. Not that I didn't provoke anything, but still..."

"Well, Fred and I do a lot of provoking ourselves," George reasoned. "But you haven't met Old Man Filch, the caretaker. He's always got a hair up his ass about something or another. I mean…" George fidgeted a bit. "Quite frankly, he's jealous of all of us. He is a Squib, after all. You know what that is, don't you?"

Meghan nodded. "My dad was one."

"I'm sorry. So was someone in our family. He's an accountant now, I think, and we don't talk about him much. Well, what does your dad do?"

Meghan turned her head away from George.

"He's, uh, dead…actually."

"Oh." George winced. "I'm…sorry. I really am sorry. I shouldn't have asked-"

"No," Meghan said glumly. "It's not a secret or anything, but my mum never talks about it much, either. See, back when, you know, He…" Her voice faltered.

"Go on," George urged. "What did he do?"

"No, not 'he', as in 'my dad'," Meghan corrected him. "You know, He…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Oh." George understood. "_That_ one. I know who you're talking about."

"Yeah." Meghan grimaced. "Well, back when _he_ was in power, my dad was murdered because of his 'abnormality'. Mum was devastated, and people say her hair all turned gray because of it."

"I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter, really. I've never seen how it looked before then, except in some pictures. I know she's only 44, but-"

"She's only 44?" George was in disbelief. "I honestly thought she was at least sixty, but wow…"

"No, no, George, she's younger than that. I know how it looks, honestly, but please don't say anything to her about it."

"I won't. I wasn't going to. Except…I almost thought she was your grandmother."

Meghan laughed. "I don't know what happened to my actual grandmother from that side of the family, but Mum is not her. I hear she's been through a lot of stress for quite a while, and that's why she looks so old."

"Well, I hope she's doing better now."

"She manages." Meghan stared up at the sky. "Oh, look, there's Cassiopeia…"

"Meghan, maybe I shouldn't be saying this to you, but I know you've been through some hard times-"

Meghan narrowed her eyes.

"Who ever told you that? I don't remember when my dad died, so it's not like some psychological burden I'm carrying around-"

"I'm not talking about your dad. I didn't even know about him until you told me. I'm talking about your place in the magical world in general."

Meghan looked at George questioningly.

"It's stuff that my mum has said about you, actually," George explained.

Meghan was indignant.

"And just _what _has your mother said about me?"

"Well, she's very fond of you, make no mistake of that," George said quickly. "But it's like…" He stopped for a moment, and then started again:

"Your mum and mine have been close friends for as long as I can remember. I know because my mum sees yours at Madam Malkin's a lot. Well, have you ever wondered why we haven't grown up together?"

"Not really."

"I mean, I only met you last week, but we both live in England, and you're the kind of girl that my mum would take Ginny to see so that she could get 'socialized'. But you only met her the same day you met me."

"I had never thought of that."

"My mum said that your mother wanted to keep you a safe distance from the magical world for a while. She said you have a magical family, and that you and your brother were always set to go to Hogwarts, but that there's a reason that you always grew up in the muggle world, with only Anna as a friend."

Meghan sat up straight. "Nobody ever told _me_ this before!"

"Well, mum said that your mother had probably told you at some point," George replied sheepishly. "But I suppose she didn't. Maybe I should stop talking about this."

"No, tell me," Meghan insisted.

"No, really, I shouldn't. I've already said too much-"

"You brought it up!"

"Okay, okay." George put up his hands in defense. "Mum says that something happened to you while you were really young that made you really troubled."

"Well, I have been troubled over the years for one reason or another," Meghan agreed. "But what happened?"

"She really doesn't know." She just says that it happened when you were a toddler, and you were always very easily upset after that."

"Is _that_ why my mother kept me in the muggle world practically all my life?" Meghan's voice was rising steadily as she spoke. "I'll admit that in primary school I was pretty much a juvenile delinquent, had no friends except Anna, and probably got into more fights that any two bullies in our school. Does your mother not care for me, then?"

"No, she likes you well enough. But she's aware of your past problems and why they exist. And she doesn't even blame you for fighting with kids at your school."

"She _knows_ about that?"

"Oh yeah, she knows all right. Apparently your mum tells all to her."

"And she doesn't tell _me _things," Meghan snapped.

"Well, once my mum took Ginny over to the Parkinson family to play with their daughter, who's only a year older. I think her name's Pansy. Anyway, while mum was chatting with Pansy's mum, who's as bitchy as they come, Pansy threw a doll at Ginny and said that our dad is a blood traitor."

Meghan's eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah, and she was only eight." George grinned. "And do you know what Ginny did? She _tackled_ her to the ground and punched her in the face. Then she pulled Pansy's hair and actually stuffed some dirt into her mouth."

"She's just like me!"

"_And_ she's a Weasley. I hate to admit it, but I was proud of her."

"And what did your mum do about it?"

"Oh, she pulled Ginny off of Pansy, scolded her, and made her apologize. But when they went home, she simply told Ginny that, while fighting was not an acceptable means of expressing anger, Pansy was spoiled little brat who had it coming, anyway."

"Did Ginny stop fighting?"

"Yeah, she stopped, but you couldn't kill her spirit."

"I'd never even try," Meghan laughed.

"So, you can see why Mum is sympathetic. Besides, she thinks you have a good effect on Ginny. Ginny practically thinks that you're the older sister she never had."

Meghan grinned. "Does that surprise you?"

"No."

They were silent for a few moments. Then Meghan decided to speak again.

"Did your mother say anything else about me?"

George stared at her, and after a while, slowly shook his head.

"Not much- except that we should be nice to you and understand that you don't know the magical world very well."

"Well, that's…nice." Meghan smiled weakly. "But really, I'm not fragile or anything like that."

"Mum didn't say you were fragile. She just said that you had been through some bad times in school, and that you would figure out in good time where you belong."

Meghan didn't know how to respond to that.

"Maybe I've told you too much already."

"No, you haven't. I have every right to know this."

"Promise you won't tell my mum, then?"

"I promise."

"Good." George continued. "See, Mum and Dad talk about these things when they think we all aren't listening. But Fred and I have ways." He winked.

"Your prank inventions, I take it?"

"Uh, yeah." George was visibly flustered. "Fred and I just started with this idea a few weeks ago, making a device that allows you to hear private conversations under doors. Well, we, you know…tried it. With some bad results sometimes, I'll admit."

"I notice you've been trying out your special inventions on other closed doors."

George smiled wryly. "It's a dead giveaway, isn't it?"

"So, you and Fred were listening under Ginny's door the other night, weren't you?"

"Strictly for experimental purposes," George insisted.

"Oh, I'll bet."

"Well, Fred and I found out last year that it has been made physically impossible for any male even to approach the door to the girls' dorm, so we're working on a way of being able to listen in from a distance."

"Shouldn't you _not_ be telling me this?"

"You wanted to know."

"And yet, you're more hesitant to tell me what I don't know about my own family?"

"That's heavy business, and _I_ wasn't even supposed to know it at all. But I think I can trust you with Fred's and my little secrets."

"And how do you know I won't tell the other girls you're listening in on their conversations?"

"I don't. But if you do, they will open the door to check, and it will be a good conversation-starter."

"You're lonely, aren't you?"

George's eyes grew wide, and Meghan immediately knew that she had said the wrong thing.

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

But George did not grow angry, as she feared he might. He just shook his head.

"I'm not lonely. Fred and I just like to sport at teasing girls for fun. Fred will still do it at school, even though he has Anna, because he doesn't want to lose his skill."

"I don't think that spying is the way to a girl's heart."

"No?" George laughed. "Well, speaking to the expert herself, then, what_ is_ the way to a girl's heart?"

"I don't know…why don't you find it on a map?" Meghan laughed nervously. It was a stupid remark, and she felt even stupider when she looked at George and realized that he was serious.

"Come on, you're a girl, so what is the way to the heart of someone like you?"

"I-I don't know." Meghan was on the verge of choking on her words.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Please, George, it's really not like that."

"Well, what's it like, then? I mean -" George stopped. "Meg, why are you crying?"

Tears were indeed spilling down her face, and, as ashamed as she was, she couldn't stop sobbing. She was breathing hard and heavily, barely able to stutter:

"Did I-I…did I tell you…w-what h-happened to me…l-last Christmas?"

George's face was sympathetic as she spilled out the whole story of how Alec Pope had viciously embarrassed her in front of her whole class. It was like telling Anna, except that George seemed blissfully less judgmental.

"And that was also where my magical powers first protected me…but I still doubted them until I got my acceptance letter. And that was that. And Alec was the only boy I'd ever wanted, and he was so, so mean to me…"

"I'm sorry."

"George, it's really weird," Meghan gasped through her sobs. "I've always been just really, really nervous about boys. I even thought I hated them. Maybe I always just suspected that they would hate me." Then she quietly added, "I never expected one to ask me what I wanted, as if he really cared to know."

George was silent.

"You know, George, I once thought you hated me too."

"Wha-" He was taken aback. "Now, why would I hate you?"

"It isn't fair to you…it was probably just in my imagination. It's just that when Fred suggested that we all go out for drinks the day we met in Diagon Alley, like it was a date or something, you didn't seem to want to do it. It was like he was pairing us up and you didn't like it."

"Oh, that…" George groaned.

"Like I said, I was probably imagining it…"

"No, you weren't imagining it."

"So you mean-"

"It wasn't you. It was Emily Perkins."

"_Emmy_?"

"Emmy." George nodded. "She's fancied me for the past couple of months, ever since she started working at Gambol & Japes and saw that we were regular customers. Well, she wasn't that good at hiding it, and when Fred and Lee noticed, they kept teasing me and trying to push us together. It's really annoying, but I don't know what to do."

Meghan was relieved, but at the same time, she felt bad for Emily.

"Well, Emmy's nice enough, isn't she?"

"She's nice, but I'm not interested. And I don't even think that she likes me for me. I think she admires Fred and I both because we're rebellious and- I won't lie- people from school look up to us. I think she just started going for me because Fred's taken."

"That's too bad."

"It doesn't matter. It's just that I don't like it when she hangs all over me and does that screechy laugh at every one of my jokes. And when we're together for the school year, I'll probably get it more often, too. I just worry that one day I'll explode at her and say something I'll regret later."

"Well, that is a dilemma," Meghan agreed. "But, is it at least certain that your problem isn't with me?"

"Yeah." George grinned, showing his even, white teeth. "I like you."

"Really?" Meghan felt a strange, but not completely unfamiliar stir of excitement within her, but on the outside she remained calm. She wrapped her arms tightly around George's shoulders, looked up at him, and smiled. "Thank you."

George didn't say anything back, but he leaned over and brushed aside the loose wisps of hair in Meghan's face, strands that had fallen out of the black ribbon that she had neatly tied earlier. They stared into each other's faces for several moments, eyes locked.

And then, without thought or question, he kissed her on the lips.

The sky and the pond in which they were soaking their feet looked the same, but for Meghan, it and the rest of the world had changed for good. It was not in the moment itself that she realized that everything was different, but in contemplating it as she and George sat there in the grass, soaking up what was left of the night. After that first kiss, Alec, Priscilla, Belinda, and Laurie Lyn lost their vividness in her mind. They turned into mere cardboard cutouts, becoming "then", while the present, with George, Fred, Anna, and Ginny became "now". From now on, shame and friendlessness would not be a thing of everyday life, and it would be impossible ever to feel as ugly as Alec had made her feel on that horrible day of the fight. Now she knew that whatever came up in the future, she would not have to face it alone and afraid.

* * *

Meghan and George fell asleep together on the grass, with his coat serving as a blanket for both of them. Their socks and shoes lay abandoned by their feet, and the dew slicked their hair and caused a chill that only made them huddle closer together. 

It was Fred who shook them awake when the first ray of pink light streaked the horizon.

"We've got to get home-_now_," he hissed. "Home before Mum and Dad ground our asses for a year, or we'll never take the car out again. Come on, Ginny, that includes you."

"If my watch serves us right, we have an hour," Anna warned. "One hour in which to put this thing back in the garage, creep inside, and get back into our beds, and all without waking anybody."

"How are we supposed to do all that without waking anyone?" Meghan protested. "We can't just go in and pretend nothing happened."

"Ah, but you're overlooking something, Meg," George replied in perfect calm. "I scattered a deep-sleep powder -one of Fred's and my inventions, of course- onto everyone else's bed sheets yesterday. It works so that when you go to sleep, you stay asleep for about eight hours, give or take a few, depending on the strength of the dosage."

"Well, then, why did you bother with being so quiet last night?"

"George and I haven't completely perfected the formula yet." Fred winced. "We don't know if it works just right yet."

"And," George whispered, leaning closer to Meghan, "I'd like to have done it to Ginny, too, but you all sleep in the same bed these days."

* * *

Meghan never got around to asking George what he felt about that night. She found it out one day, a long time later, scrawled on a piece of parchment that was hidden in one of his textbooks: 

_There was this one night before school started when we all went to Millor Pond. I used to think that strawberry ice cream was just strawberry ice cream, but now I think it tastes like the first girl I kissed. _


	20. Recluse

Meghan, Anna, Fred, George, and Ginny all scrambled back into the Burrow as quietly as they could and climbed back into their beds. Meghan huddled under the covers and dozed off by the rays of sunlight that crept in through the window, but the next thing she knew, Mrs. Weasley was shaking her, Anna, and Ginny awake. Mrs. Weasley then took Meghan's pale hands into her own and clucked that they were _so_ very cold, and that the house must not be warm enough if Meghan could sleep there through the night and still be practically frozen. Then she hurried out, declaring that there was breakfast to make, and that the girls had better hurry if they hoped to get any. Before she left the room, she added, "I hope you slept well last night, at any rate, for you've got a very busy day ahead!"

It was the closest she had come to the truth. Meghan felt a pang of guilt in her stomach and a tingling chill down her spine.

But both soon became forgotten when she stumbled out of bed and made her way to the door. Mrs. Weasley had gone back downstairs, but Meghan spied George (she _did _somehow know it was George, and not Fred) standing there at the end of the hall. His hair was messy and his face tired, but when he saw Meghan staring at him, he grinned. She smiled back and looked away.

It wasn't until Meghan was standing between Anna and Ginny at the bathroom sink, splashing cool water onto her face, that she really snapped awake. The events of last night were lost in the grogginess of morning preparations, but the magic still buzzed within her, as if she had been let in on a wonderful secret.

After brushing their teeth, she and Anna both slipped into crisp wool skirts and starched blouses. Meghan buttoned the sleeves and brushed out her hair so that it hung in loose waves.

"Wow," marveled Ginny. "You really have long hair."

Meghan beamed and sat down at Ginny's desk chair which they had brought into the bathroom, and Anna pulled back the long waves of hair into a bun with a dark blue gingham headband.

Ginny's eyes traveled enviously up and down the other girls' new school clothes, making Meghan feel self-conscious. She pretended not to notice, looking instead into the mirror, where she batted her eyelashes and experimented with different pouting expressions.

"What's wrong?" Ginny giggled. "Do you have an itch?"

Meghan, a little embarrassed, tugged at her blouse collar. "It's all this starch."

"I think it's more than the starch," Anna crooned into Meghan's ear. "Which is why I must know…what were you and George up to last night?"

Meghan felt a tingling feeling run up and down her neck.

"What do you mean?"

"_You_ know what she means." Ginny exchanged a knowing grin with Anna. "We all saw you and George getting all close and friendly over by the pond."

"I think I even saw him kiss you," Anna added.

"Ewwww!" Ginny grimaced and pretended to throw up. "Why would you let my brother kiss you?"

"It's because Meghan likes George," Anna said slyly. "That's why."

"Well, I think he's a very nice boy," Meghan admitted.

"_I_ think you want to spank him."

Ginny gasped.

"We're going a little far there," Meghan said nervously.

Anna leered at Meghan's reflection in the mirror.

"_You _want to make _babies_ with him!"

Ginny shrieked with delight and clapped her hand over her mouth, while Anna jumped up and danced around the room, singing, "Georgie-babies, Georgie-babies, Meghan wants to have Georgie-babies!"

"SHUT UP!" Meghan screeched, throwing her hairbrush at Anna. And, after a split second of silence, she soberly added, "No, I don't!"

"Shush, Meghan!" Anna teased, tossing the brush back. "_Everyone _wants to have Georgie-babies. Even _you_."

Ginny was disgusted.

"_I_ don't!"

"Meghan does!" Anna's voice then became smooth. "You know, because he's just so hot and awesome, and all his babies will be guaranteed hot and awesome. Admit it, Meghan; you want some hot and awesome Georgie-babies!"

"No...I…_don't_!" Meghan hollered. But despite this protest, she felt a wave of pleasure knot up inside her.

"Georgie and Meghan, sitting in the tree…" Anna sang.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" spelled Ginny.

"First comes love, then comes Georgie-babies, then comes…"

"ENOUGH!" Meghan shouted.

Ginny and Anna blew loud kisses at her.

Anna whispered, "You might as well admit it, Meghan. You don't have to be ashamed. We_ all_ know."

"Uh…" Meghan's face turned pink. "Well, we did have a nice time together last night. I've never been that close to a boy before."

"Hah!" Anna pointed her finger at Meghan. "You admit it! You want to have George's babies!"

"I didn't say I wanted his _babies_…"

"Georgie-babies, Georgie-babies, Georgie-babies!" Anna and Ginny sang out together.

"I don't want to have _anyone's_ babies!"

"But you do like my brother, don't you?" said Ginny.

There was a pause.

"Well…" Meghan grinned and blushed, in spite of herself. "Maybe just a little."

"She admits it!"

"I _like _him," Meghan allowed, "But that _doesn't _mean I want to have his babies."

"Suit yourself," Anna said smugly. "Georgie-babies!"

"No, _not _Georgie-babies!" Meghan yelled. And then her face softened. "But…but all the same, can I borrow your makeup?"

* * *

By the time the three of them raced downstairs to breakfast, they were all wearing matching headbands (Ginny's yellow and Anna's candy-apple red). Anna and Meghan were wearing red lip gloss with a touch of blush and mascara.

Mrs. Weasley eyed them suspiciously as they seated themselves at the table.

"You girls are looking rather pretty today." She said it pleasantly enough, but none of them, especially Meghan, dared to meet her eyes. She and Anna murmured, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," and looked downward.

"Miss Anna, Miss Meghan...dears, is that makeup that you're wearing?"

"A little," Meghan squeaked.

"A little much for eleven and twelve years old…don't your mothers mind?"

"Not…really." Anna still didn't look at Mrs. Weasley. "It's not all that much."

"Just experimenting," Meghan added, remembering that it was not the first time that she had done so in hoping to look pretty for a boy. She recalled when she had once purchased a cheap tube of lipstick from a Boots pharmacy, hoping that she could look good for Alec Pope back when she had just started to like him. She had hurriedly applied that, as well as some makeup smuggled from her mother's cabinet, onto her face before school started. When she walked into the classroom that day, she noticed that everybody was staring at her, and that nobody spoke. At first, she had been proud, believing that everybody was admiring her. But then she heard a gasp from Belinda Curtis, and the tittering voice of Priscilla Dobson floated over the room:

"Oh my goodness, I think that's the same color of lipstick that Miss Owens wears!"

All the other children in the room laughed.

Meghan felt a cold wave of dismay wash over her as she heard Laurie Lyn add, "She looks like a clown!"

"Hey, clown, why don't you go back to the circus?" Belinda taunted. "Better yet, you could be a circus _freak_!"

"She's a freak enough right here, so she might as well be paid to do it," Priscilla sneered.

Meghan had rushed out of the room, trying to hold back tears all the way to the girls' bathroom. When she looked in the mirror, she was horrified. She_ did _look like a freak, just as clownish as Laurie Lyn had said. And the lipstick, which at first had pleased her, being the color of a robe she had once seen her mother make, was _exactly_ the shade that the awful headmistress wore. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before.

Meghan let out a pitiful sob as she used a paper towel to rub off the cheap lipstick and heavy blush. Rivulets of mascara flowed down as her tears poured out, and when she looked up at it, she was strangely mystified by the fact that she liked what she saw.

Black mascara and eyeliner darkened her eyes, looking especially intense as she wept. Good! Let it be dark! Let everything about her miserable life be plunged into darkness, and take the tears and the frightened, lonely nights with it, too! In spite of herself, Meghan had been smiling as her tears ran, her nose ran, and her eyes looked red and puffy, and her face sore. Let it all be dark and hidden, and maybe there she might learn something about her fear that plagued her rainy nights and friendless days. The darkness made everything one and the same.

It turned out that Alec had been fortuitously absent that day, a couple of months before the exploding pink goo incident. But the next day, Meghan wore the same black eyeliner and mascara, along with a thick coat of black lipstick. Other students were afraid to approach her looking this way, but complaints from teachers to the headmistress resulted in a call home to her mother. Her mother sighed and shook her head at the news, but she refused to do anything about it. So Meghan kept wearing her black makeup and clothing to school, waiting in vain for her mother to finally put her foot down. When she didn't, Meghan was simply labeled as "disturbed" at school and then mostly left alone.

It was Anna who, having learned from older girls at school, had taught her what kind of makeup to put on and how to do it, sometime after Meghan had received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. It was not until today that Meghan decided to try it again.

Meghan and George scarcely looked at each other through breakfast, but at rare moments when they did, Anna nudged Meghan, who in turn glared, daring her to say a word. More than once, when Meghan caught George's eyes, his face turned almost as red as his hair, and he looked away. These times, Meghan felt a sweet, warm sensation bubble up inside of her to almost overflowing.

* * *

But only for a moment. The next thing she knew, Mrs. Weasley was shooing them out of their seats, telling them to hurry up and finish their breakfasts while they packed, for they only had a few minutes. So, Anna was still chewing up mouthfuls of fried egg and buttered toast on her way up the stairs, and Meghan was lagging clumsily behind her, gulping down a glass of orange juice.

_At least it'll give me some fresh breath in case George tries to sneak a kiss,_ she thought hopefully.

He didn't. As she, Anna, and Ginny tidied up the room, packing any last belongings before they were to leave, the twins came in, saying that Mrs. Weasley had told them to help the girls with their trunks. Meghan smiled coyly at George, but he only nodded in return. She pouted slightly, but he didn't respond. He and Fred just hoisted up the biggest trunk and left the room without a word. Meghan wondered if she had only been dreaming when she saw him smile at her earlier.

She looked helplessly at Anna and Ginny, grabbed her satchel and hairbrush, picked Grizabella up into her arms, and sighed with disdain. The three took one last look around the room to see if anything had been forgotten, and they exited in silence.

After the trunk was loaded with everyone's belongings, they all piled into the car, with Trevor, Percy, Fred, and George, and Ron in the back, and Meghan, Anna, and Ginny sitting up front between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Meghan realized that in the daylight, the inside of the Ford Anglia looked even more spacious than it had last night. Even though it was holding much more now, the magic that had been performed on it before made it so that none of the boys were crowded, and the girls were able to sit comfortably enough between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with room to spare.

Meghan glanced at her lap, where Grizabella was peacefully curled up on her lap, a small puff of sleek fur gleaming in the sunlight. At once, she felt last night's lost hours of sleep creep up on her in a wave of drowsiness, so she stretched out her legs, rested her head on Anna's shoulder, and as Mr. Weasley started up the car, she fell asleep.

* * *

When she awoke, they had arrived at King's Cross. Anna was shaking her awake and Ginny was coaxing Grizabella out of the car. Meghan shook the sleep out of her eyes, scrambled out after Ginny, and scooped the kitten into her arms. She gently placed Grizabella into her satchel as Percy handed her one of her suitcases. She watched as Anna and Trevor loaded a particularly large trunk onto a luggage trolley with special care, and then she realized that she hadn't remembered seeing them pack up any such thing earlier in the morning. She didn't recognize the trunk as belonging either to Trevor or to Anna, but they both handled it with great delicacy and loaded it onto Trevor's trolley. It struck Meghan as being odd, but since nobody else seemed to think it was strange, she decided to forget about it.

When all of the trolleys had been loaded, the school-bound children lined up in order of age, with Meghan at the end. It was by the glint of sadness she saw in Ginny's eyes that she knew this was the end. Mrs. Weasley went down the line, hugging and kissing them all, telling them to be good and write home, and telling Meghan, Anna, and Trevor that it had been _wonderful_ to have them over for the week. Meghan felt the guilt about last night well up inside her again, but she looked over at Anna and Anna only smiled.

It was Ginny who was frowning.

Meghan put a sympathetic arm around Ginny's shoulders as if she already knew what the other girl was thinking.

"It's not fair," Ginny grumbled. "You get to go to school, but it's just the same old thing for me."

"Just another year to go?" Meghan offered hopefully.

"Two."

"Right."

"I wish it were wrong,"

"Well, maybe this year will be better than last."

"I keep hoping for that every year," said Ginny. "It never is."

"It will be now," Meghan assured her. She pulled Ginny aside, out of earshot of everyone else, and whispered, "Last night, we had the time of our lives. It was a sweet time, just the five of us and no grown-ups, out on our own like that. Like teenagers! And I'm only eleven, and you're only nine."

Ginny smiled sheepishly, in spite of herself.

"_I'll_ go off to school," Meghan continued, "and when I do new things, I'll probably just forget about last night for a while, because there's just so much else going on. But you can go back home in silence, and you can take the memory of last night with you. And you can think about it to yourself tonight before you go to sleep, and you can relive it over and over again. It's like a little hope you can cling onto when times are bad, and you can think of it and dream of new possibilities. And when you meet some new friends, maybe it can be a conversation starter."

"Oh no!" Ginny looked horrified. "They might tell my mum, and I'd get in so much trouble!"

"Then keep it to yourself. It's like your own secret that nobody else can have."

A faint smile slowly spread over Ginny's face.

"And I'll write to you at least once a week while I'm at school, so you can have something to look forward to."

"Will you really?"

"Of course. I'll tell you everything that happens to me. Anything that comes to mind, so that you can have really long letters."

"I like long letters."

"You'll do this in pairs!" shouted Mr. Weasley from far away. "Percy! Trevor! Onto Platform 9 ¾ !"

Meghan watched in amazement as the two boys ran ahead in a pair with their trolleys and disappeared through a solid wall.

"Is that really how it's done?" she asked Anna excitedly.

"Now the twins!" said Mrs. Weasley.

As the Fred and George ran up to the wall, Meghan quickly turned back to Ginny and squeezed her hand.

"I really will write you, okay? I promise."

Ginny grinned mischievously.

"I have a secret to tell you. The secret of eternal happiness."

She stood up on her tiptoes and cupped her hand around Meghan's ear.

"The secret to eternal happiness," Ginny whispered, "Is…_Georgie-_babies!"

Meghan gave Ginny an affectionate slap.

"It's our turn now," Anna said quietly.

Meghan exchanged one last long look with Ginny before she and Anna took their trolleys and raced with them into the solid wall.

* * *

Meghan didn't know exactly when the wall opened into something new, but suddenly, they were right behind the boys again, amidst a bustling crowd of other boys and girls, all with their own luggage trolleys, all chattering loudly, excited to board the scarlet steam-engine, the _Hogwarts Express_, that stood before them. They quickly found the luggage compartment halfway along the train where they loaded their trunks, and then they jumped back onto the platform.

"I love this part of the year," said Anna grabbing Meghan's elbow and watching Percy, Trevor, and George scramble off. Fred lagged behind, hand-in-hand with Anna, and Meghan, hurt, wondered why George didn't stay too. She felt uncomfortable, being alone with Anna and Fred, as if she were some unwelcome tagalong. But soon, Anna seemed to remember something, and for some odd reason, she ran ahead of Meghan and Fred so that she could go and speak to Trevor. About what, Meghan did not know, but she and Fred walked along in silence.

"Anna's only been here once before, like George and me," Fred explained, "but she already knows that this is her favorite time of year, when she can meet all the people that she hasn't seen since June and catch up on everything. She's very social."

"Like you, I imagine," said Meghan.

"I do get around," Fred admitted. "But she's just going to go crazy right now. I want to get a compartment on the train just for all of us, but she'll probably just want to talk to everyone on the train before we reach Hogwarts."

Meghan watched Anna's sandy hair disappear into the crowd with her brother, and she sighed wistfully. Then she noticed Grizabella poking her head curiously out of her satchel, and she realized that she had never said goodbye to the dogs that morning.

Two girls emerged from the crowd together, walking near her and Fred. They were just close enough for Meghan to recognize them as the Shield sisters from Flourish and Blotts. They each held a black kitten in their arms, and they were loudly discussing the prospects of the Toyohashi Tengu, which Fred explained was a Japanese Quidditch team.

"Yeah, Maile and Andi Shield are part Japanese themselves, and they are quite proud of it."

A tall, burly boy came up to join the two girls, greeting Maile with a kiss on the lips. He put his arm around her shoulders, and as the trio passed Meghan and Fred, Meghan saw that he was wearing a robe the sleeves of which were tied around his neck to look like a cape, and that he was wearing blue jeans and a battered t-shirt that had a Wimbourne Wasps emblem on it (another Quidditch team, Meghan correctly presumed.) His hair was messy and his arms were solid and muscular. Meghan also noticed that he was rather good-looking.

"That guy is Oliver Wood, one of the better members of our Quidditch team," Fred explained. "He's been going out with Maile Shield for a year and a half, since she was a first-year. She's a looker, I'll say, and it makes the other guys jealous when they find she's taken. I know it made George mad."

Meghan's heart stopped in her throat.

"He_ likes_ that girl?"

"Well, that was only last year, I think," George assured her, seeing the worried look on Meghan's face. "He was jealous of Oliver Wood, and he was also really upset to leave Maile when we took the train home from school for the summer. But he's hardly ever even gone up to talk to her, because she's so popular and all her friends are popular too. For a month this past summer, he just moped about the house, the prank shop, and wherever else we went, but I think he's over her. Good old prank inventions we were working on kept him busy and put his head right back where it belonged."

Meghan smiled, but she didn't feel much better. For some reason, she thought of Alec Pope, and it upset her.

They continued on down the way, and Fred pointed out more names and faces to her: "Megan Fowler- she's a really good Quidditch player too, bound to be captain, and she's in her seventh year now. Crystal Matrix and Terrence Higgs- they're Slytherin Quidditch players. Now_ that's_ a couple you don't like to see much of every day, that Malfoy girl, too, don't even pull shit with her. There's Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff-he's all right, but he can piss me off sometimes-Theresa Bell, and that might be her younger sister Katie in her first year, Beth Simon-nice girl, there, she's in Hufflepuff, and she's a prefect-and there's that older Ravenclaw girl, Asia Tonks, with the lime green hair. She and her sister Nymphadora are metamorphmagi- yes, I think that's how it's said- which means that they can change their appearances at will. Asia's real hair color is kind of like Anna's, I think. And there's Alicia Spinnett, she's a good one…and Jen Hart, and Alyssa Carmona…"

Fred grasped onto Meghan's arm and led her along as she spoke, and deep inside she felt sad and alone. George's sweet words from last night now seemed truly far away, and as she blinked in the harsh sunlight, it was hard for her to imagine that their exchange in the starlight could possibly have happened.

She glanced back to see if she could still see Maile Shield and Oliver Wood, and when she found that she couldn't, she imagined that she could still see Maile's pretty face and flowing hair in the distance. She also imagined that the other girl was coupled not with the Wood boy, but with George.

Fred skipped ahead of her to board the bus, and when she tried to catch up with him, she was swarmed by boys and girls who were all crowding ahead of her, all shapes and sizes, all kinds people.

_But there will be other boys…_

Fred was out of her sight now. Meghan kept her face firm, checked her satchel to make sure that Grizabella was still safely inside, and stepped up onto the train.

The aisle ways were crowded when she got on, and she elbowed her way through the masses of people, praying that Grizabella wouldn't hop out of her bag and get lost in the crowd.

She shrieked in surprise as a hand reached out without warning from between the curtains of one of the compartments, grabbed her arm, and dragged her inside.

Meghan breathed heavily, in and out, trying to get over the shock. She was relieved to see that it was only the familiar freckled smile and red hair, and that the compartment was empty except for him and her.

"Fred, you really scared me there," Meghan gasped between breaths. "Don't you ever even _think _of doing that to me again!"

"I'm not Fred, I'm George." He grinned. "Fred's already up ahead of us."

"But I saw him get on, right before me."

"I already know that," said George. "I know it because he stopped here, told me to look for you because you were close behind him, and then left. He and Anna are saving a better compartment for us, and we're going to meet them in it later." George patted the wall. "This little room's a crappier one here, because it's cramped and it's closer to the engine sounds."

"Then why are we here?" Meghan asked, nervously.

George patted the seat beside him.

"Maybe you should sit down."

Meghan became calm, sat down and placed her satchel beside her. Grizabella crawled out and onto her lap, gazing at her and George with dazzling emerald eyes.

"Can I come in now?" said a voice from outside the compartment.

George motioned toward the curtain, and Lee Jordan from the Leaky Cauldron date stepped in. Without so much as a greeting, he reached over and picked up Grizabella. Before Meghan could say a word, he left the compartment with the kitten in his arms.

"W-where the hell is he taking my cat?" Meghan protested. "He can't just barge in like that-"

"You don't have to make a big fuss about it." George gently put a finger to her lips. "He and I arranged for him to take your cat to the other compartment."

"Why would you just do that, without my permission?"

"So we can be alone."

That familiar, mischievous glint that Meghan had longed for was back in his eyes. She felt a smile creep to her lips.

"So you didn't forget last night after all, did you?"

"Never mind last night or whatever you thought of it. The others won't be expecting us back for a little while."

"So, what exactly do you have in mi-"

George didn't let her finish. He just pulled her close and kissed her. Not just one kiss either, but one after another after another after another. It wasn't with the same sweetness as it had been then, but…

_At least I don't have to worry about Maile,_ Meghan thought.

George was inexperienced, but Meghan didn't care because so was she. She allowed her own hands to run along the side of his face, stroking it to see if it felt the same way she always saw it. She traced a finger down the length of his neck and tried to mimic the way he kissed. He seemed to like it, so Meghan figured she must be doing something right. Eyes closed, she let herself go into a sort of a dream, with half-formed visions of unicorns and mermaids creeping in and out of her view.

When she and George opened their eyes at last, they looked at each other with a sort of flustered surprise, as if seeing each other for the first time.

* * *

Their arrival into the compartment down the aisle was greeted with knowing smiles, and with Lee Jordan punching George playfully on the arm. Telltale traces of red lip gloss hung around the corners of George's mouth, whereas there was almost none left on Meghan's lips. She quietly pulled a kerchief out of her satchel and wiped George's face off amid everyone else's stares.

_Is it dirty, what we just did?_ Meghan thought to herself.

She sat down primly and crossed her ankles, smoothing her tartan skirt over her legs. Grizabella scampered back onto her lap and surveyed the room with her wide green eyes.

Meghan scanned the other faces there and cleared her throat.

"Uh, how about those Quidditch scores lately? Uh, Wimbourne Wasps…yeah. They're good this year."

She had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, only taking the random team name from Oliver Wood's shirt. The others could sense it, and Anna, Fred, and Lee Jordan, and another girl there started giggling. Only George remained silent beside her, blushing deeply.

"All right!" Meghan shouted. "I've had enough of this. In case it's news to you, George and I _were_, in fact, snogging at the front of the bus. So what? Give it a rest."

The sparse giggling turned into full-fledged laughter, and the girl beside Lee was shaking, her buried her head in her arms.

"I see we have someone new here," George said, pointing to the girl to change the subject, with a smile on his face.

"This is Katie Bell," said Lee, indicating her. "She's a first-year."

Katie looked up, face red from laughter. She offered up her hand and Meghan shook it.

"So, have you two known each other since before school, then?" Meghan asked.

"No, we just met," Katie said shyly. She then burst into laughter again.

"Ignore her," Lee explained. "She's just nervous. But we really did just meet. I saw her, thought she was cute, asked her if she had a boyfriend-"

"And invited me back here-just like that!" Katie finished. She smiled a cute, dimpled smile that sparkled among brown hair, doe-brown eyes, and a slew of tan freckles. "My older sister Theresa went off to see her own friends, so I know she won't miss me."

"Speaking of missing people," Meghan whispered to George, "I take it can be said that the, um, sleeping powder was a success last night? On your family, you know?"

Both Fred and George grinned and said nothing.

Somebody from outside tugged on the door curtain, and a small voice was heard, saying, "Can I come in here?"

Meghan did not recognize the voice right away, but George did, and he sighed disdainfully.

Sure enough, it was Emmy Perkins that Lee let into the room, waltzing in with her hair smartly curled and more than just a bit of makeup on her face. Behind her glasses, she was easily wearing at least three coats of eye shadow and mascara, rather badly applied, with dark lipstick and blush, finished off generously with foundation, a product which Meghan had been afraid even to touch since that awful day at school. The whole combination looked like a mess, and Meghan felt sorry for Emmy in more ways than one. She knew that Emmy looked much nicer with no makeup at all.

"Uh- hi, Emmy," she stammered. "It's great to see you again."

"Hi, Meghan," Emmy returned with a smirk. "It's nice to meet you and your kitten again." She turned to Grizabella. "Yes, you're just so pretty, aren't you? With those eyes, I still would've named you 'Emerald,' though."

Meghan rolled her eyes and immediately felt bad for doing it. Anna shot her a warning glance.

George placed his arm firmly around Meghan's shoulders, gripping them tightly.

Emmy took a seat next to Katie Bell. George relaxed his hold just a bit.

"Hi, everyone," said Emmy.

Everyone returned the greeting warmly enough, except for George, who only nodded coolly.

"It's great to see you all again," she said cheerfully, "and I'm so excited to start school at Hogwarts with a new set of friends, especially those I've gotten to know so well over the summer." She smiled sweetly around the room.

"However," she continued, "I'm afraid that Meghan Wolf and I only met once, and I must say that I've heard more_ about_ her than from her."

Emmy was being entirely too glib and formal, and Meghan didn't know what to say. She felt extremely uncomfortable, almost nauseous, as if she knew what Emmy was about to say.

"You haven't me yet, either," Katie piped up. "I'm Katie Bell, and I'm a first-year too-"

"Meghan, is it true that you're a magical recluse?" Emmy interrupted, brushing her off. By now, everyone else in the room had caught on to the weird air in her attitude, although no one was feeling it as strongly as Meghan.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Meghan stammered. She looked around the room for help, but no one seemed to know what to do. Anna looked as if she wanted to say something, and the twins, especially George, shrunk down in their seats.

"It means that you're magical, but sheltered from the wizard world," Emmy explained gently, almost condescendingly. "There's nothing wrong with it; I mean, I think it's great. I just hear that you are, that's all."

"Why would you ask that?" said Meghan, turning pale.

"I don't know what you've been hearing or where you've been hearing it," Anna cut in sharply, "but there's nothing wrong with Meghan. She's our friend."

"And my new girlfriend," George added bluntly.

This clearly took Emmy by surprise and seemed to shake her confidence.

"I didn't mean that there was anything wrong," Emmy said in a small voice. "I was just curious. I think one of you mentioned something about her being disturbed, or a late-bloomer or something."

"Emmy, please, not here," Anna said nervously.

Meghan felt a cloud of rage boil up inside her, but she kept calm.

"You've got it wrong," she mumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear, and she got up and stormed out of the compartment, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

From outside, she could hear Fred or George saying, "Emmy, I thought we agreed not to talk about that. It's not her fault."

Furious, Meghan stomped down the aisle way, as far away from the others as possible. One of them had betrayed her, she was quite sure, but whether it was Anna, Fred, or- please, not him -her new boyfriend George, she did not know. All she knew was that her "fresh start" at school pretty much looked destroyed at this point, and she didn't want to talk to anyone about anything at all. She just wanted to get away.

_And it can't get any worse at this point,_ she thought, a tear slipping out of her eye.

"Look out!" someone ahead of her shouted, but she didn't pay attention.

The next instant, something slammed straight into Meghan's leg and turned into shower of lime green and orange fireworks. She cried out in pain, and when she looked down, a trickle of blood was flowing from where it hit, staining her socks a deep red.


	21. The Sorting Ceremony

Meghan reached down and grazed the wound with the tip of her fingers. This slight touch only made it hurt more, and she moaned at the pain.

There was a wave of male laughter from right in front of her, but she paid no notice. Instead, she held her fingers up to her face, examining the droplets of blood that were on them.

"I don't like girls," a male voice sneered in the distance. "Especially when they look as dumb as her."

Meghan looked up at the one who had spoken, and the sight that met her eyes was blissfully hypocritical. The boy was remarkably unattractive, with a lumpy nose and beady eyes that peered haughtily over a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Meghan did not know what "dumb" was supposed to look like, but there was no mistaking straightforward ugliness.

"Merlin, Evan, I think you hurt her!" said another boy, running up behind him.

"That was the whole point," said the homely boy.

"You weren't supposed to make anyone bleed," a third boy protested.

"Shut up, both of you," the first boy snarled. "Everyone knows that that's the best part!"

"You don't know how dangerous those things can be!" said the second boy. "It's only supposed to scare them, that's all!"

"Do you want to get expelled before we even get sorted?" added the third.

"You two are both being idiots. You said yourselves that you wanted to learn how to get by here, so follow along!"

Meghan was too busy trying to staunch the trickling blood with the sleeve of her blouse to wonder just how people expected to get by hitting other people with…whatever had hit her. She used her free hand to grab the curtains of the nearest compartment. The one with all her friends and the treacherous Emmy was too far away, and despite her emergency, she would feel too foolish going back to them all just yet. But for the time being…she clutched on the curtains and stumbled onto the seats inside.

Two pale, dark-haired girls were had been reading aloud from cards before Meghan stumbled in, but now they turned to greet the new arrival with eyes less curious than Meghan thought they would be.

"Oh." One of them, who had wide blue eyes and long, curly hair that were similar to Meghan's own, grimaced at the wound on Meghan's leg. "I see that the Terror Triplets have been at it again."

"Obviously, this is what happens when there's no grown-up around to keep them in line," the other girl agreed. She had straight hair just the same color as Meghan and the first girl, but it was shorter, reaching just past her shoulders. The slightest hint of pale freckles was peppered on her cheekbones, and her eyes were brown. The girl sighed and pulled a small blue bag out of her carry-on luggage.

"Hold out your leg," she commanded. "This is the least we can do."

"But, what-" Meghan protested.

"Just do it."

Meghan gingerly obeyed, releasing her sleeve from the wound as another drop of red-black blood slipped out. Meghan winced at the sight, but the other girl was unfazed.

"Trust me, I've done something like this before."

She pulled out a green glass dropper-bottle and squirted a little of it on the wound.

What came out looked like liquid white glitter, and the sensation it gave was even more amazing. The wound instantly cooled, and Meghan sighed with relief.

"That feels good; that's wonderful!"

"I call it 'the Bloodstopper,' but that's only because I don't remember what its real name is," said the other girl. "I think it's in Latin or something. I don't know. But I made it out of this difficult recipe from a Potions book that I came across in Italy."

"You've been to Italy?"

"She's got a gift," said the girl with the curly hair and blue eyes. "She could be a Healer when she grows up."

"I don't know about that," said the other girl, closing up the bottle as a blush gathered around her pale cheeks. "I just played around with some magical books and whatnot, and the results are better than I had expected, at least after a few tries." She held out her hand to Meghan. "My name's Breanna, by the way."

"I'm Jessica," added the other girl, extending her hand as well. "We actually just met each other only about an hour ago, but now it feels like we've been friends forever. Now fancy meeting you too."

Meghan nervously shook both hands, and introduced herself as well.

"I'm afraid I don't make friends with _anybody_ as easily as you two have with each other," she admitted sheepishly. "In fact, I'm having friend troubles right now. I was just with some of my friends a few minutes ago, as a matter of face, and this stupid girl came in and ruined everything."

"That seems like a pretty big feat for a stupid girl," Jessica remarked thoughtfully. "Ruining your friendships with her very presence."

"She must have a severely destructive aura," Breanna added. "Is she some black hole toward which friendships gravitate and are crushed out of existence?"

"It's not quite like that…" Meghan started faintly. She realized that all three of them had different accents. Her own was Irish, Jessica's was British, and Breanna's accent was something altogether different.

"Where are you from, anyway?" Meghan asked her.

"From many places," Breanna shrugged. "I'm from the United States and always have been, but I've traveled to other places over the past few years."

"So you're an American?"

"Yes, but I'm prouder of having traveled elsewhere. I was in Italy for two years. That's where I found the book that made Bloodstopper."

"It was more than just Italy," Jessica added. "She's seen the Berlin Wall too."

"I've also been to the Eiffel Tower. But France was only a month."

"Didn't you also see the Pope? And the Leaning Tower of Pisa?"

Breanna sighed, brimming with nostalgia.

"I _did_ like Italy. I want to go back sometime."

"Maybe Hogwarts will be better," Meghan offered meekly.

Breanna looked only mildly interested.

"I think your leg is better, at any rate," said Jessica, pointing at the wound.

It was true. The bleeding had stopped, and a weak scab was poking out from the streaks of white glitter. The only blood left was in a few dried streaks that were now turning brown. The pain was completely gone.

"That was amazing; that was truly amazing!" exclaimed Meghan. "That was so quick; I thought it would never stop!"

"You should tell that to this other girl I treated earlier," Breanna replied glumly. "_She_ expected the wound to heal completely, and for it all to be as good as new, right away. She thought it was an ordinary cut, but it's not. It's one of those Gambol & Japes products, from the new SizzlePro line they've introduced. This thing that was shot at you was no ordinary prank dart. It's a Sizzle dart, and when it hits you from too close a range, it _cuts _you and then explodes. And the bleeding that follows isn't too heavy, but it's hard to stop. Those things should be banned altogether, but no one has thought to do that yet."

"I think there's supposed to be another nasty effect from Sizzle darts, but I don't remember what that one was," Jessica mused.

Meghan had stopped hearing them both after the word "SizzlePro" rolled off of Breanna's tongue, and the word bounced around in her head, making an eerie echo.

She closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye, the face of a girl came into view, a girl whose hair was flowing black with strands and locks of gold here and there, and whose gold-brown eyes were so startlingly bright that they pierced Meghan's mind.

"I think I've seen you before," Meghan whispered faintly.

Before either Breanna or Jessica could say another word, she slumped over unconscious, and then fell sideways off her seat and onto the ground.

* * *

Meghan did not know how she ended up in the Hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she had no memory of anything that happened between her fainting spell and it. All she knew was that when she woke up, she was lying on a bed there, with Breanna sitting in a chair on one side of her, and Maile Shield from the bookstore on the other. Maile was wiping Meghan's forehead with a cool wet washcloth, and Breanna was perched on the edge of her seat, glancing nervously at her, hands clasped in her lap.

When they saw that Meghan had come to, Breanna shouted, "Madam Pomfrey, look, she's awake!" and handed Meghan back her glasses.

As Meghan adjusted them over the bridge of her nose, she listened as Maile spoke to someone else.

"No, Madam, I don't know exactly what it was. All I know is that I was walking down the aisle with my best friend Jen, and then Breanna here jumped in out of nowhere, telling me to get help because some first-year student fainted, and she didn't know why. We got the conductor's attention, and then I decided I should stay there."

"Did Miss Hart stay with you?" came back the voice of an older woman.

"No, I told her to go back and tell my sister and my boyfriend that I wouldn't see them until the Sorting Ceremony. I thought it was my duty to stay with her."

"That was very good of you, Miss Shield. Perhaps you should go to the Great Hall now. The ceremony is going to start soon."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"W-where am I?" Meghan stuttered faintly after Maile left the room.

"You're at Hogwarts!" exclaimed Breanna. "You don't remember it because you were blacked out, but when the train stopped, this really big guy named Hagrid led all us first years to the school in rowboats. He ended up carrying you to his own boat, and he let that other girl and me go along. I was about to cry, because I didn't think that you would ever wake up, but Hagrid was so nice, and he said that there was no reason to worry. You should see what a great big person he is, Meghan, he's-"

"You will surely be used to his size in good time, Miss Falcon," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, waving her aside. "And as for you, Miss Wolf, there is no reason to worry. You seem to have taken a bad reaction to the dart that hit you a few minutes earlier by some unruly passengers. The darts have proven to be dangerously sedative on frequent occasions. Really, I think that item should be banned from all stores that now sell it."

"How do you know my name?" Meghan asked nervously.

"Oh, your brother was able to identify you when everyone got off the train. I imagine that he and everyone else is waiting in the Great Hall for you two to get sorted?"

"S-sorting?" Meghan stammered.

"Why, yes, Miss Wolf. Seeing as there is already magic in your family, I take it you already know about the House-Sorting procedure?"

"Oh, I do know. I just didn't know that it would happen this soon."

"Well, it will. And seeing as you and Miss Falcon are first-years, it will only be a matter of time before you are assigned to your House."

"It's a very exciting occasion," Breanna offered reassuringly.

"Are you feeling better, Miss Wolf?"

"Why-yes," Meghan replied. Then she hesitated. "At least I think so. I'm sure so. All the faintness…it's gone."

Breanna smiled and helped Meghan off of the bed.

"You girls should run along, then," Madam Pomfrey concluded, giving Meghan a pat on the head. "The Sizzle dart can do you no more harm; its effects have to have worn off entirely by now. Professor Dumbledore will be starting the Sorting Ceremony any moment now, and mind you, it's an important event for you both. Miss Falcon, will you see Miss Wolf to the Great Hall, with the rest of the first-years?"

Breanna led Meghan to a pair of double doors where Breanna assured Meghan that everyone was waiting for them so that they could all be sorted. She started to open one of the doors, but Meghan grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Breanna, let's not go…not just yet."

Breanna looked puzzled.

"Why not?"

"I don't know…it's just…" Meghan looked around helplessly. "I'm not sure that I'm ready for what's going to go on in there?"

"Well, what do you think_ is_ going to happen in there?"

"I don't know!"

"Then why are you worried?"

"That I'll…I don't know - fail, or something."

"You _can't_ fail! That's absolutely impossible!"

"But I-"

"No, Meghan, just…just don't say anything more. Just…take a deep breath."

Meghan breathed.

"Feel better?"

Meghan nodded hesitantly, then stood up straight, and threw her shoulders back.

"It's now or never."

She and Breanna each pulled a door open and marched into the Great Hall side by side.

The sight of the many floating candles that adorned the air and accentuated the lofty height of the ceiling astounded Meghan so much that she forgot to be afraid. Silvery transparent beings smiled down at them from there, whom Meghan realized were ghosts.

_We're among the dead, _she thought to herself.

She and Breanna caught sight of the other first years standing in a line that stood along the end of the room, and ran up to join them.

"Now that everyone is here, we can begin the Sorting procedure," a stern woman with square glasses announced, who she was later told was Professor McGonagall. Professor McGonagall pointed to a four-legged stool on which a dirty pointed hat stood.

No sooner had she done so, then the hat twitched and began to talk through a rip in the side.

"Oh my…" Breanna breathed.

The hat proclaimed its message in rhyme:

"The Sorting Hat does wonders

To the astonishment of all

But talking's only half of it

For the greatest thing of all

Is how I see into your mind

And in a twinkle, just like that

Your character it what I'll find,

And because I'm a talking hat

I'll tell you all where you belong

And what you can hope to be

And proclaim your place here with my song

Based on what in you I see.

"For the bold and brave, Gryffindor House

Is where they are meant to be

And sorted into Hufflepuff

Are the loyal, hard-workers I see

You might belong in Ravenclaw

If you are endowed with wisdom and wit

And Slytherin is the place for the cunning,

For with the ambitious ones they fit.

And now it's time to take the test

To see where you belong

Just put on the hat; I'll decide the rest,

And so here ends my song."

The Great Hall erupted into applause, and the hat bowed to each of the four long tables that Meghan realized represented the four Houses.

Professor McGonagall read aloud a series of names from a roll of parchment:

"Bell, Katie."

Katie Bell, whom Meghan remembered as being Lee Jordan's train companion, stepped up and sat on the stool. She placed the hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed.

Katie blushed with excitement at the applause that followed from those at the first table, took off the hat, and ran over to join them.

"Blake, Norman."

A sharp-faced, dark-haired boy put on the hat, and was then sorted to the same house.

"Bulstrode, Evan," followed, whom Meghan recognized as the ugly boy who had shot the dart at here. When the hat proclaimed him a Slytherin, she decided that she didn't want to be there. She looked around, and when she found Breanna's face, they exchanged pitying glances.

"Butler, Erin" became another Gryffindor, and then "Carmichael, Edward," became the first Ravenclaw. Meghan's stomach relaxed a little, and then tensed with impatience, realizing that she was near the end of the alphabet.

"Carmona, Alyssa," went to the Ravenclaw house, and so did "Chang, Cho," a black-haired Asian girl whom Meghan decided was annoyingly pretty.

A few more names followed, including, "Dyer, Peter," who was one of the boys that had accompanied Evan Bulstrode in dart-shooting. He went to Hufflepuff.

"Edgecombe, Marietta," who had strawberry-blonde hair, went to Ravenclaw, and then it was Breanna's turn.

As Breanna passed Meghan on her way to the Sorting Hat, she caught Meghan's hand and squeezed it. Meghan flashed back a supportive smile.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat decided. Breanna sighed with relief and rushed over to the third table.

Other names followed. Then "Jennings, Tom," the other boy that was with Evan Bulstrode, went to Hufflepuff along with Peter Dyer. Meghan looked at them sitting together at the second table with distaste and decided that she did not want to be there, either.

"Ivec, Laura!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Kazandjian, Mihran."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Mclaggen, Cormac."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Monaco, Gregory."

"SLYTHERIN!"

And then it was Jessica Nelson's turn.

"HUFFLPUFF!"

Meghan shrugged. Now it was official that Breanna and Jessica were not in the same House, but at least things would be more palatable if Meghan ended up in Hufflepuff too.

"Nicolson, Georgia" went to Slytherin, and then Emmy Perkins went to Hufflepuff. Meghan's stomach turned and decided that Hufflepuff would be a bad idea after all. At least Emmy wouldn't be too close to George.

"Parkinson, Priscilla."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Santos, Danielle."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Shield, Miranda."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Wannagat, Christopher."

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, it was Meghan's turn. Remembering Breanna's encouragement, she took a deep breath when her name was called and tried her best not to look afraid.

_Walk up to that hat as if you own it,_ she told herself.

And she did. Or at least she tried to. She was so nervous, she decided not to think at all.

She sat down on the stool and placed the hat upon her head. It was so big that it fell over her eyes, and she felt that she was truly alone with her thoughts, even though she knew that a mere hat was judging her character.

"I sense some distinct anger in you, lady, but plenty of determination," she could hear it say. "You want to succeed everywhere where you think you so far have not, and you are willing to do everything to try."

_Yes,_ Meghan's mind replied.

"A tricky girl is what you are. You have a good mind, but a shaky sense of how to use it," the hat added.

_But I want to find out. Oh, just please don't put me in Hufflepuff, those mean boys are there._

"But the meanest one is in Slytherin. Why are you not so pitted against that House, then?

_Oh…I don't know. _

"I think you do."

_My brother is in Hufflepuff!_

"Is that so wrong?"

_I don't want to be Trevor Wolf's little sister. Oh, I know I _will_ be sometimes, but…I don't want to be a family traditionalist. I want to start my own legacy._

"You talk rather grandly for a young lady."

_I've been told worse than that, Sorting Hat. Are you mocking me? _Tongue in cheek, she added,_ And can I call you Bob? _

"I do not mock; I determine. And you can call me whatever you like; it makes no difference to me. But why call me a name?"

_Just because I thought you should have one. So what do you determine for me, Bob? Where will I succeed?_

"That is a question to ask yourself; I can only help you along so far."

Meghan felt a surge of strength build up out of nowhere, and then:

_Well, place me where you will, because…_

"You have said it yourself, Meghan Wolf. I don't make you, because…"

"I'm the one that makes me!" Meghan declared, this time speaking out loud, so that the whole Great Hall could hear. That looked at her in curiosity, but since the hat covered her eyes, she could not see them,.

"Take the privilege now, and handle the responsibility later," the hat replied. "At your own risk, mind you."

_What do you mean by that?_

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared. The first table applauded, and then Anna, George, Fred, Lee Jordan, and Katie Bell all swarmed into view.

"I'm one of you now!" she cried out happily, as she threw off the hat and ran over to meet them. There was a sparse wave of laughter around the Hall, but she didn't mind. She was just so relieved at how well things had really turned out.

And, she realized, Emmy wouldn't be there to bother them. She felt both good about that and a little guilty just because she felt good.

She took the seat that Lee and George made for her between them, across from Anna and Fred.

"Hello," she greeted them calmly.

"Uh…hey, we're really sorry about what happened earlier," Anna whispered over the table as "Wolfe, Stephanie," and "Zabini, Medea" were sorted. "I should have put the situation under control earlier, but I wasn't prepared for Emily to do anything mean."

"Don't worry about it," Meghan said, smiling. "It doesn't really matter anymore."

"And that concludes the Sorting Ceremony for this year's first-years," announced Professor Dumbledore, the old man with flowing white hair and half-moon spectacles who sat at the center of the Head Table that presided over Houses. "And now…let us enjoy ourselves in fine feasting."

In an instant, there were dishes, gold dishes and goblets that had been there before, but that Meghan had not noticed before in all her excitement and nervousness. They were now impossible not to notice, piled and filled high with all kinds of delicious food and drink.

"Well, I never…" said Meghan.

"Oh, but you will," said Anna. "This kind of thing is only the beginning."

* * *

"Really," said Fred, gnawing on a lamb chop as the meal went under way, "I didn't think that Emmy was out to get you like that. Otherwise I would have told her to sod off from the start."

"Oh Fred, you would not," Anna scolded. "You knew she had a big thing for George all summer, and you should have figured out that he didn't like her back."

"She's not so bad," Fred answered with a shrug. "I mean, she knows her way around Gambol and Japes, so she knew how to help us out with everything."

"I thought she was all right at the start," George admitted, "But then, you know, she was just in our faces all the time, and it got really annoying."

"And you should know that there is nothing wrong with being a magical recluse," Lee added firmly. "There's something of a stigma against the label, but most people adjust quickly even if they're late to come into the magical world. Most of the time, other people can never tell the difference."

"And besides," said George, "She only used that against you because it's the only thing that sets you apart as far as she sees it. The thing is, people pride themselves on their magical knowledge, because it's associated with strong magical heritage. And people with magical heritage that is pure or close to it are respected.

"It's wrong, of course," Fred cut it, "And even though George and I are pure-blooded, we don't flaunt it, because we're secure in what we know and what we can do."

"I might be pure-blooded, but I don't know," Meghan said shyly.

"It doesn't_ matter_!" Katie Bell insisted. She smiled meaningfully at Lee. "Every good Gryffindor knows."

"Why, Katie," Lee said slyly. "You're talking awfully confidently for someone who was just inducted."

"Anyway, a magical recluse just means that people assume that you're behind the curve when that label is used," Anna continued. "I know that sounds bad, and that's why it was upsetting when Emmy said it. Well, we told her about how you hadn't seen all that much of the magical world compared to the rest of us. We just didn't think that she would be mean about it."

"We don't think that others will be mean about it either," Fred added. "But that's because they don't all have a reason to hate you."

"I hope she realized how hideous she looked in all that makeup," Katie remarked somewhat nastily. "Someone should teach her how to put it on right."

"She'll realize not to wear it once she sees that it impresses no one," Anna added soberly.

George wrapped his hand around Meghan's under the table and whispered, "And don't worry. Emmy will back off once she realizes that you're mine and that we're all living closer with each other than we are with her."

Meghan smiled sweetly and kissed George gently on the lips. It was the first time that she had done that in plain sight , but she was determined not to be shy.

_They'll all just have to get used to it, _she thought smugly._ George and I are officially a couple._

A split second of silence was followed by a shriek from over by the Hufflepuff table.

"Oh my goodness! Is that a…it's…it's a dog!"

Anna's eyes became like a pair of saucers, which Meghan's own followed to the direction of the door. The door to the Great Hall was standing ajar, for some squat witch professor from the Head Table had opened it to leave, and to her amazement, two dogs immediately scampered past her and raced each other down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

"Great Scott!" A male professor's voice rang out, as Anna grew sick and Meghan grew incredulous to see that these were their dogs. Tiger was unmistakably orangey-hued and striped, and Indiana's tri-colored fur patches were recognizable anywhere.

Meghan turned to Anna.

"Do you know about this?"

Anna grew pale.

"I didn't think that they would…oh, Trevor and I decided this morning that we had to take our dogs to Hogwarts with us. I_ know_ they're not allowed, but I was so sure that we had kept them sedated and hidden in our luggage."

"Well, obviously you didn't keep them asleep long enough," Meghan accused.

"Oh, they must have woken up and escaped," moaned Anna. "And they came here because they could hear people and smell food, but…I was so sure that they wouldn't be discovered until we got back to the dormitory!"

"We have to claim them!" Meghan insisted.

They started toward the Head Table, but Professor McGonagall had already gotten to the dogs. She had them each by their collars, but the results were disastrous as far as the teacher's were concerned. After a short, scuffling commotion, the dogs had attacked their table, and Tiger's face was smeared with buttery mashed potatoes. Indiana, on the other hand, had stolen a turkey leg from the plate of Professor Dumbledore himself, and had it clenched between his teeth. He looked at Professor McGonagall with bewildered brown eyes.

Anna and Meghan rushed up to them, and so had Trevor, sprinting over from the Hufflepuff table.

Professor McGonagall surveyed them all with eyes that were both weary but unrelentingly stern.

"Are these your dogs?" she snapped.

Meghan, Anna, and Trevor all nodded nervously.

"Take them outside the Hall, then," she commanded. "It seems you three and I need to have a private chat. _Now_."

* * *

Professor McGonagall closed the door behind her.

"I believe the rules were made clear that only rats, toads, owls, and cats were permitted to be taken to school with you," she said quietly.

She was clearly angry, but she did not raise her tone.

"I don't think they meant anything bad," Meghan offered meekly.

"That is _enough_ from you, Miss Wolf," McGonagall cut her off sharply. "And furthermore, you allowed them to wander freely and cause a disturbance at the banquet?"

"That part was an accident," Anna explained sorrowfully. "Besides, I missed my dog last year, and I wanted him back. I didn't think that it was such a big deal…"

"The rules are the_ rules_, Miss Macynski, and to think that this infraction has affected the standing of our House!"

Trevor cleared his throat.

"Not that that is an excuse for _you_, Mr. Wolf," McGonagall answered severely. "I imagine Professor Sprout will be most disappointed in _you _for breaking the rules, so you are _not_ off the hook.

"Your parents will be notified, and you will serve two weeks of detention. Now tell me, what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"Meghan wasn't with us on this," Anna loyally volunteered. "She didn't even know about it until now."

"AND _YOU_ TWO, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAVE BEEN HERE AT LEAST A YEAR, AND SHOULD KNOW BETTER!"

Indiana, who had still been holding the turkey leg, dropped it suddenly and started to whine. Professor McGonagall turned to him and got a good look at him.

For the first time.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wasn't yelling at you," she assured him.

Indiana barked shrilly, and Meghan, Anna, and Trevor all exchanged puzzled looks.

"Oh, quiet, puppy," Professor McGonagall ordered, but more gently now. She took Indiana's face into her bony hands, and they stared at each other for a few seconds.

Indy sneezed.

"Bless you, you poor baby," McGonagall cooed. She stroked Indiana's ears.

"Is this a pureblood collie?" she asked the other three.

"Yes," Meghan and Trevor answered meekly.

"I used to have one, back when I lived in Scotland," McGonagall commented plainly. "She was the sweetest thing anyone ever saw, and she was so much like this one."

She stood up.

"Mr. Wolf and Miss Macynski, you have detention, and your parents will be notified about what you have done," she state firmly. "But…but the dogs can stay."

Anna and Trevor were elated.

"Did you hear that, boy?" Trevor exclaimed to Indy. "Professor McGonagall said that you can _stay_! Won't that be _fun_, Indiana?"

"The dogs will go back to your dorms, and you had _better _be responsible for taking care of them completely, or else I might change my mind," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "If I hear one complaint-"

"Oh, we will, Professor McGonagall," Anna promised. "I'd never neglect my baby."

"You had better not. Now go back to your suppers. I will have an elf see to the dogs for the time being.

The three nodded stiffly and walked back into the Great Hall amidst the stares of everyone else in there.

Just before she closed the door behind her, Meghan turned around to see an elf, who had appeared out of nowhere and was leading the dogs away. She also had a look back at Professor McGonagall, whose face was buried wearily in her hands.

* * *

"Did you ever_ think_-" Anna breathed wearily as she and Meghan made their way to Gryffindor tower. Meghan had bade Indiana a quick good-night kiss before he pranced excitedly after Trevor to the Hufflepuff dormitory.

"You two practically got away with murder," Meghan hissed self-importantly. "Wouldn't have been less trouble to have chosen an allowed pet from the start?"

"But Tiger's my baby."

Anna had been instructed to take Meghan up to the first-year dormitory on the way to her own, so they were both ahead of the other students.

"Dragon scale," she whispered to an animated painted portrait of a very fat woman. Meghan's first instinct was to think of Miss Owens, but this one looked much more pleasant.

The portrait swung as a door to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"At least we all get our own beds," Anna explained as they climbed in through the portrait hole. "And they're not bunks, either. You get singles, along with the privacy of canopy curtains.

Meghan admired the lavishness of the Common Room, with its fireplace and wine-colored furniture and upholstery, as Anna pulled her up a flight of stairs by the collar.

Sure enough, when they got to the top of the stairs and Anna pulled open a door, the opening to the room revealed a row of beds canopied in red brocade. On each one, a pile of luggage was stacked, and Meghan recognized a pile on one end as hers.

More than that, she recognized the green-eyed cat that arose from it and leapt toward her.

"Grizabella!" she shrieked. "Oh Christ, Anna, I'd forgotten all about her!"

"The twins and I made sure that she got here all right after we heard that you had fainted." Then she added quickly, "Because we weren't allowed to leave the others to see you."

"You saw me taken to the hospital wing?"

"Mr. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, was there, and he carried you there himself." He's such a big, strong guy, like twice your brother's height…it was nothing. And then Maile Shield and this other girl headed there straightaway."

"Breanna Falcon," Meghan said, nodding. "I'd just met her."

"And apparently you'll meet her again tomorrow, because you have Potions class with the Ravenclaw first-years." She added darkly, "Beware the professor; he's mean."

Meghan gulped.

"I have to go." Anna shrugged and pointed to one end of the room. "Showers are over there. Then there's a towel rack on the end of your bed, where your house tie, sweater, and badge are hanging. Don't worry about any boys sneaking in as a joke. Fred and George tried it once, but the stairways wouldn't let them. It's because boys aren't to be trusted."

Meghan smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Anna."

"Good night. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

As soon as Anna left the room and closed the door behind her, Meghan heaved a sigh and ran over to the trunks on her bed. She quickly dug out her new red nightgown and held it close against her chest, sniffing the fabric.

After digging out her new school robes and a stiff-collared blouse and throwing them over the end of the bed, she closed all the trunks and shoved them under the bed. Then she undressed slowly, but then pulled the nightgown quickly over her head when she heard the sounds of footsteps and giggling make their way up the stairs.

By the time the door opened to let in all of her chattering new roommates, Meghan had leapt into her bed and pulled the blankets up past her chin. She had closed the side of the canopy that faced the beds of her other roommates, but the other side was left open. She lay facing this way so that she could see the window.

Scrunching her eyes closed, Meghan waited for what seemed like forever until the other girls got into bed and the lights and the noise had both gone down.

The only lights in sight were the twinkling of stars in a black sky, and if Meghan looked down to her feet to where Grizabellla was curled up, the glowing green ovals that were the kitten's luminescent eyes.

Meghan rested her head deep against the pillow, in deep pleasure at how soft the hole bed was. She hadn't felt drowsy since the car ride to King's Cross, but as soon as her head touched the pillow, she felt all her earlier tiredness rush back to her head. She looked at the starry sky outside the window and imagined that there was a car speeding against it, filled with five foolish kids who wanted nothing less innocent than one last summer adventure.

_Before Anna and I and Fred and George go off to learn magic…_

_And Ginny spends yet another summer in loneliness._

And George had become her boyfriend since last night, her first.

_My first love…_

She mouthed the words to herself so that they were barely audible:

"I am a girl who is happily in love."

She giggled and then began to say more in barely a whisper.

"Good night, my love. George, my George, in the boys' dormitory, and missing me so much."

She pulled her headband off, letting her hair fall messily around her face. In the daylight, she didn't think of it as anything special, but now, she imagined that she was raven-haired and beautiful.

_A pretty girl. With gold flecks on black hair and the most dazzling brown eyes._

She was so lost in the image that she could not even feel herself drift off to sleep.


	22. The Slip

The girls in Meghan's dormitory were nothing but a sea of sound the night before, but now they were a sea of chattering, puckering faces, with different lengths and colors of hair, and different complexions. Yet they all with the same tired, but anxious eyes, as they pushed and shoved for room in the showers, room over the sink, and room in front of the mirror.

Everyone wanted to look good on their first day of school, Meghan observed quietly, and somewhat pityingly, as she made her way into this communal bathroom right next to their bedroom. She had been greeted immediately with the smell of perfume and a few perfunctory glances by other girls who shrugged and went right back to curling their eyelashes, and their collective insecurity made her feel almost smug. Meghan knew that everyone's anxiety was based on the titillating awareness of the boys, and the fact that she already had a boyfriend made her feel powerful and more at ease.

She splashed cold water onto her face and patted it down as soon as she found room in the island ring of sinks, then she finger-combed it and twisted into a bun at the back of her neck, with a few loose ringlets. All she needed was a little makeup…but she didn't have any, and she wasn't about to ask for it from the girls nearby whom she didn't even know. She would just have to borrow it from Anna later.

She paid special attention to her teeth, brushing them carefully and thoroughly, gargling with mouthwash for twice as long as she usually did. She figured that even though she didn't have to worry about her looks enough to get a new boyfriend, she needed to make sure that she was ready to kiss they boy she already had without any insecurity.

Back in the dorm room, she drew the curtains and undressed, trading her nightgown for a starched white blouse, a gray sweater and gray knee socks, a pleated skirt, and a long pair of black robes. She scrambled out from behind the curtains, took a quick look in a nearby, and gathered up her new books and writing quills in her black satchel.

She scampered down to the Common room, where a boy and girl prefect were handing out Gryffindor House Badges and ties. She grabbed one of each and fastened them on, and then followed other new Gryffindors to the Great Hall for breakfast.

* * *

The same people who had eaten supper with her last night were there for breakfast today, and she suspected that they would be a regular group. Following Anna and Fred down the halls and up the stairways, she and George held hands all the way to their first classes, which were right near each other. Meghan felt the admiring glances from first-year students, who were assessing George with stares of respect. They already knew that he and his twin commanded the place, and Meghan felt proud to absorb the "glow" of his charisma, which showed in both his swagger and his smirk.

The feeling broke off abruptly as their hands did at the first-year Charms class, and she stared longingly after Fred, George, and Anna going off to second-year Herbology without her.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a likeable little man standing on a stool of stacked books to be seen, whose energy instantly cheered her up. ("Quite the charming little midget- get it?" Anna remarked later, when Meghan was talking about her days.) Professor Binns, the Ghost who taught her History of Magic class, was the exact opposite. His personality seemed practically non-existent ("Well, what did you expect?" Anna commented. "He's dead, isn't he?")

Professor Snape, the greasy, hook-nosed professor of Potions, was even more unpleasant. He seemed to hate everyone there, and while he was rarely prone to raising his voice, his words kept a cold, snide tone that oozed contempt, and made Meghan's face stiffen in defiance whenever she heard him talk. ("The whole school will rejoice when he creeps back into whatever musty hole he climbed out of," Anna sneered. "Except maybe those lame-ass Slytherins, but they can all go to hell.")

Professor Loparo of Defense Against the Dark Arts was young, somewhat brash, and reputed for his good looks and sarcastic wit. ("He's cool, but he can be somewhat of an ass sometimes. It's like every girl at least in the third year and above wants to marry him," Anna groaned. "Don't you do it too.")

Professor Loparo often taught while standing on his desk, but that was not why Meghan remembered the class. It was because that was where she found Breanna Fullin again, who sidled up and sat down next to her in her two-person desk.

"Remember me?" She asked softly when Meghan's back was turned, and Meghan jumped in surprise.

"Yeah…yeah! Uh, I'm okay now and everything, so, uh…thanks for taking care of me when I fainted on the train…"

Breanna explained that she and Meghan were actually in their first class together in Potions, but that they had been sitting on opposite sides of the room.

It turned out that, since the train ride, she and Jessica had become fast friends, despite being in separate classes, and that they planned to get the best grades in all of their classes, especially the ones that they had together. Their mutual favorite was Herbology, because Jessica was interested in cultivating live things, and Breanna had a knack for medicine, but they wished that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could have Potions class together.

"It's such a challenge, but I'm sure that we could take on Professor Snape together," Breanna remarked confidently. "We both feel alive when we get a challenge. I think that's why she and I are so good together."

Meghan actually thought that if it were not for Professor Snape's consistent contempt, then Transfiguration would actually be her worst class. Professor McGonagall's softness over the dogs from the night before had frozen into a stern demeanor that never betrayed that she had a soft spot for dogs. Her guidelines on the curriculum were strict:

"Transfiguration," she pronounced with strict distinction, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic…" ( "-that you will learn at Hogwarts," Anna mimicked groggy, high-pitched voice. "Has she ever tried to get past Filch and his god-awful cat just to have a snog in the broom closet on a Friday night?")

Worse yet, Meghan had picked a bad seat. She wanted to find one that was near a window, and she realized too late that it was also near Emmy Perkins, who regarded her with a cool (perhaps self-important?) stare. All other seats were quickly filling up, and she didn't want to seem mean, so she took a deep breath and calmly sat down, staring ahead the whole time.

Needless to say, it was an awkward first class.

* * *

At lunchtime, Jen Hart had slipped her and Anna a flier advertising the upcoming Try-out day, which would take place on Saturday of the following week.

"It will determine membership and leadership in all of the school's extracurricular activities," Jen explained primly. "It can be anything from the photography club to our Latin Club, or our esteemed Quidditch team…" She paused, and added, "Or most esteemed of all, our Flying Band, with our three-dimensional formations, and our tasseled, color-coded uniforms- blue for me, red for you, you know- and our hit songs, such as 'Hang on, Sloopy,' 'Build Me up, Buttercup,'"

"We get it," Anna grumbled though a mouthful of shepherd's pie.

"As our current members already know," Jen concluded. She flicked back a lock of dirty-blonde hair and looked at Meghan with sort of an innocent inquisitiveness. "So, you're going to be in the Band, right? You practically promised when you bought that cat. How is she anyway, and what's her name?"

"She's Grizabella, and she's doing fine. I tied a rattle to a string, and now it's her favorite toy. And she really likes table scraps." At this, Meghan picked the roll off of her plate and tucked it into her bag satchel.

Jen nodded, and then took off to pass out the same flier to Maile Shield and Katie Bell.

Anna looked at her watch and quickly got up from the table, mumbling something about how she had to go and feed Tiger.

"See you at Band tryouts, right?" Meghan called after her.

Anna replied with a quick wave and a slight chin spasm that Meghan accepted as a confirming nod, while thinking, _That girl is acting awfully strange…_

* * *

Herbology with the cheery Professor Sprout put Meghan at enough ease to make friends with her fellow first year Gryffindors. ("I once threw a handful of dirt at Fred, and nearly got kicked out of class for it," Anna later said. "I pretended it was an accident.")

The other girls included Lauren Holt, who was tall, with a honey-colored complexion, straight black hair, and lively brown eyes, and Danielle Santos, who was shorter, and whose hair was blacker and longer and tied in a high ponytail. They seemed to share the same propensity for mischief and giggling, and they became immediately excited when Meghan casually mentioned that she would be trying out for the school Band. It turned out that they both played piccolos and couldn't wait for next Saturday.

"It's the only way we can use brooms before when we're still first-years," Danielle explained. It's not like they're fast or anything, because they have to be kind of low-end for the school to be able to afford enough. But we can make some pretty high formations with them."

"I hear that the Quidditch games are also known for their pre-game crowd pleasers," Lauren added. "They always color the formation with all four House robes for the scheme for a united pre-game performance, and then every team's Band members go off in separate portals to play Pep Band tunes at different times.

"The House Bands have to make their own list of Pep songs and have an approved theme for each one, so that we're not all playing the same thing," said Danielle.

"And we learn those in separate Band practices and sectionals, but all four House Bands get together to play the pregame school spirit songs," said Lauren.

The girls spent the class passing notes with song theme ideas.

Astronomy with Professor Sinistra at night became Meghan's favorite class by far, because she discovered that she loved the stars, just as would discover her love for the school's secret doors, passageways, nooks, and crannies, dusty books, stone, and talking portraits.

("I always wanted to make out in the Astronomy Tower," Anna later mused.)

It was almost the perfect way to finish a day, but Supplementary Latin took place still later.

"I don't understand why they schedule that stupid subject right when people are going to bed," Anna huffed when she and Meghan met together, right before Meghan set off for it. "It's not even a required class. It's just something for the swotty people who don't have lives and want to suck up to their other professors." She caught the hurt look on Meghan's face and added, "No offense."

"Breanna and Jessica recommend it," Meghan insisted. "They're taking it to improve their spells, and they want me to come along. And anyway, the books are provided."

"Well, good luck. Professor Mim is an old bat who sleeps in a coffin." She paused. "So I hear."

"I pity you for believing it," Meghan said dryly.

"She doesn't even have the ability to hear a Sizzle rocket explosion at the back of a room," Anna protested. "I believe someone actually tried that once."

"Have a good night, Anna."

* * *

Meghan scurried down the flights of stairs from the Astronomy Tower, trying to get to class on time. The stairs had a way of switching around as they pleased, so she was frustrated in trying to get to the right ones.

She made her way down the final set, a stone staircase with an intricately carved rail, but immediately slipped on something suspiciously slick and fell straight downward. She screamed in surprise and flailed wildly for the railing, but it was no use- she tumbled straight down and crashed right into a person at the bottom of the staircase.

They both fell to the floor with a painful crash, and Meghan groaned after she slowly made her way up and realized that she had bruised both knees and a cheekbone.

The other person was waving something in her face, and when she looked up, she recognized him as Maile Shield's boyfriend, Oliver Wood.

"Look what you did to my riding broom!" he shouted, thrusting it in her face. Indeed, it had a chipped handle, and the straw was bent and splayed.

"I- I didn't…" Meghan sputtered.

"Next time, look where you're going!" he snarled, pushing her away. He got up and dusted himself off. "I practiced all evening on the pitch for the tryouts, and thanks to _you_, it might all be for nothing!"

"But wait…I…" Meghan quickly stood up and followed him as he stormed off in the same direction she was planning to go. "It was an accident! I slipped! I don't know why…"

"Forget it- just forget it." The boy called back, without even looking at her.

They were both going to the Latin class, as it turned out. They could feel the stares burning on them as people turned around to see them walk in, and the glare from the professor was the one that burned the most.

Professor Mim, who had a withered, feeble look that betrayed a trace of former beauty, gave the two an evil eye as they showed up, disheveled, to her classroom.

"In my class again, I see, Mr. Wood." She said flatly. She picked up a pointer and indicated him with accusation. "If only you were on time; then I'd know you were serious about keeping your marks up this year."

Oliver blushed behind the dirt on his face.

"It was her fault," he grumbled, pointing at Meghan. "She ran into me and my broom from nowhere-"

"Young man, I am not in the mood for hearing any excuses," Professor Mim interrupted sharply. "There is no conceivable reason to be bringing your broom to class."

"I just came back from practice…"

"SIT DOWN!"

Oliver Wood feebly obeyed, and flashed Meghan a murderous look. She sat down too, and gulped hard, letting her bag slide to the floor. She didn't even look around for Breanna and Jessica. She folded her hands primly in her lap and looked straight ahead with a stoic face for the rest of the class.

* * *

"I don't know how it happened," she explained to Anna later. "All of the sudden, I just slipped on something, and I didn't even see what it was."

"But you were _running_."

"It wasn't a careless trip, though. I _knew _I slipped on something that was there. It was like something was left there in the center of the stairway. But I was so scared to go back and look, because I thought I might just slip again out of nowhere." She shivered. "I practically had a heart attack."

"Ugh…" Anna groaned. "It sounds like somebody planted a Sizzle Slip."

"A _what_?"

"It's one of these stupid things at the shop," Anna explained. "Gambol and Japes, you know? It's this new prank substance, where you spread it on a flat surface- it's practically invisible after a few minutes, but you can sort of feel it on a surface. Anyway, it's meant to make people unsuspecting people slip, and possibly injure themselves. I personally think it should be banned."

"Speaking of what's personal, you don't think…you know, that someone's out to get me, do you?"

Anna furrowed her brows.

"I never thought…I don't see why that would-"

"Is there a reason why anyone would know my class schedule- who would want to hurt me?"

Anna looked puzzled.

"I mean, I was all alone on that staircase late in the evening," Meghan reasoned. "If it was put out there for just anyone, someone would have slipped earlier, and the incident would have been likely announced for safety purposes, and I would have known about it. But this happened late, and hardly anyone was in that area. Am I paranoid to think that something could have personal- if not for me, then for someone else?"

"Look, I'll tell a prefect about it," Anna said hastily, "And I'll see that it's investigated, so you don't get hurt again. But I think you're assuming things because you're still in shock. There's a good handful of random twats in this school for you to need to jump to conclusions."

Meghan reluctantly conceded and didn't say another word about the incident for the rest of the evening. But as she trudged carefully up the stairs to bed, she thought about Emily Perkins and had a sick feeling in her stomach.


	23. The Rock

When Saturday came, there was a rumble of excitement and anxiousness among the girls preening themselves in the bathroom in the Gryffindor first-year dormitory, and for once, that anxiousness had nothing to do with boys or schoolwork. Meghan was certain it was going on in every dormitory at the school, as everyone brushed and spit and splashed water on their faces and tried to look alive for the upcoming tryouts.

Meghan only had one school organization on her mind as she picked Grizabella up off of her clarinet case, and plunked the little kitten down on the bed with an affectionate scratch on the ears. The case clanged against her hip as she took it down to the Band room.

The Band room was a drab place devoid of the usual wooden desks, shelves, and paneled windows. It had a few cardboard boxes piled up in one corner, and a closet on one side, a set of risers, and a mess of chairs and stands along one wall. The room was crowded with a mess of sixty or more people ambling around in search of a destination.

People were calling out names of houses and instruments, reading from lists, handing out books of music. Meghan wandered through the mess, looking for Anna, whom she could not find.

She did, however, find Lauren and Danielle from Herbology class, and also Breanna Falcon and Jessica Nelson, whom she hadn't even known were interested in Band. It turned out that Jessica played the flute and Breanna played the clarinet. Jen Hart was the section leader of the Ravenclaw flutes, and Maile Shield was apparently supposed to be a drummer, except that nobody could quite find either of them. Jessica went off to join Andi Shield and LeeAnn Pilkington with the Hufflepuffs, Breanna sought out her fellow Ravenclaws, and Meghan found her way to where the Gryffindors were.

But Anna wasn't one of them.

The clarinets were herself and some girls named Nicole Schroeder, Melissa Zito, Atalanta Dimitrios, and also Katie Large, whose last name was ironic with her short, slight frame, who was pale with slightly wavy hair the same shade of brown as Meghan's, and who had a sharp voice and a commanding demeanor. Her younger brother Rob was in Ravenclaw, and she herself was a third-year student who had just been awarded the position of section leader. She introduced herself quickly, and passed out music for review.

"I'm thinking I'll take the first part, and Melissa and Nicole can take the second parts, and Atalanta and Meghan can have the third part."

They shuffled around slips of music quickly, and Meghan shared her music with Atalanta, a Greek girl with wavy dark hair, olive skin, and a bubbly personality. They were the only first-year students in the Gryffindor clarinet section. Meghan found out that Atalanta liked taking pictures, and that she was planning to join the photography club that afternoon. Melissa Zito had a friendly, glowing face framed with straight honey-colored hair with a tinge of red, and Nicole Schroeder was a lively brunette with tan freckles on a face that was slightly flushed, but pale.

But among those Gryffindor faces, Meghan still didn't see Anna.

With all of the House Bands present, everyone got together chose House music themes for the year. They Ravenclaw Band would have a "Jazz and Swing" theme, The Slytherin Band had "Pop Hits," and the Hufflepuff Band had "A Night at the Movies" as theirs. The Gryffindor Band had "Classic Rock," and everyone was given out _Pep Hits! _booklets for the pre-game shows.

All the Gryffindors were all assigned jackets and pants and slanted cylindrical red hats with gold visors in front. The clothes were all in a generic size, and Katie went back and forth, saying spells over them, so that they would adjust themselves to fit their wearers perfectly.

"Aren't we all so Sergeant Pepper here?" Meghan snickered to the others, surveying the red painters' overalls with gold stripes down the sides, and the long, stiff crimson jackets with gold tassels on the shoulders and gold stripes across the front that shortened as they went down, forming an upside-down triangle. There were detachable capes on the back- crimson with a gold lion and large gold letters that read, "GRYFFINDOR BAND."

A large box was hauled out for each of the House bands, and the one for the Gryffindors was majestically pulled open to reveal a sight that made the first-years gasp.

"Oh my god…" Atalanta covered her mouth with both her hands as she and Meghan stared wide-eyed at the contents.

The box was filled with rats, which appeared to be dead, being stretched out and stiff, with their claws reaching upward, away from their bodies. Gryffindor's rats were dyed red, and there were boxes of yellow, blue, and green rats for the other House bands, all stiff and scrunched-looking, the strangest sight Meghan had seen in a while.

"They're not dead," Katie explained, as she unflinchingly handed each of her section members one of the frozen creatures. "They're just petrified, but we like to call them the 'dead rats', because, well, that's how they seem. They're plumes for our hats- here, take one, Atalanta, they don't bite."

"But why are they rats instead of actual plumes?" Atalanta asked, disgusted.

"There was a little rat infestation problem in Mr. Hagrid's hut years ago," Nicole explained. "He seems to be some kind of animal freak, though, so he couldn't stand to have them exterminated the old-fashioned way."

"So instead, they were all rounded up and petrified, and their fur was colored for the House Bands," Melissa added."

"And thus, we have our dead rats," Katie finished proudly.

She demonstrated how to fasten them to a hat as Atalanta and Meghan looked on incredulously.

But Anna wasn't there.

* * *

At lunchtime, Meghan wasn't in the mood to talk after two hours of musical practice, but only to take frequent sips of water to calm the burning in her throat. Not that there was anyone around to talk to, anyway. Fred and George were off putting in some last-minute practice for Quidditch tryouts, Lee had gone auditioning to be the game commentator, and Anna was still missing. All Meghan could do was sit alone and chew.

It was then that Professor McGonagall walked up to her and stared her down with the stern eyes behind her spectacles.

Meghan nervously tried to avoid her professor's eyes for the long moment that they both were still, and those few seconds seemed to make an hour.

Professor McGonagall reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out an object, a tiny package wrapped in paper and sealed with string.

She laid it on the table in front of Meghan, setting it down pointedly, as if it were a grievous task to do so.

"Your mother sent this to us for you," Professor McGonagall said, each word heavy. "It happens to be a precious item, and she wants you to care for it with all the responsibility of which I trust a young lady like you is capable."

Meghan felt as if her throat had closed up, and she reached a timid hand over to the package. She nodded to Professor McGonagall and clutched onto it with slightly trembling fingers.

Professor McGonagall nodded back and walked away.

* * *

When Meghan left the Great Hall, she realized that she was sweating, even though the day was not particularly hot. She fiddled around clumsily with the string

She had not even written her mother a letter yet…

She gave up on the string, and instead ripped at the paper as she ambled though the scattered groups of boys and girls ogling posted lists outside of the Great Hall. What she pulled out of the crumpled paper appeared to be just some ordinary rock, at first: lumpy, dull, and brown, and she couldn't understand why she would be sent such a thing. She scoured the wrapping paper for a personal note or any other kind of message that could make sense of it. Perhaps it was a practical joke arranged by her brother or someone else, but then again, how could Professor McGonagall have been convinced to play a part in it?

She crumpled up both the papers and the rock together so that she could shove them into the pocket of her robes and examine them later, but as she did, the rock slipped out of her hands and tumbled to the floor at the feet of an older girl who had walked into her path. Meghan rushed forward immediately and was about to apologize, but then she saw that the rock had split in two, both halves facing broken side upward. One of the halves was hollow in the center, and the other was filled with a giant sparking square ruby that was intricately carved with all kinds of edges and curves.

Meghan collected both halves of the rock and surveyed them with wonder for a second before looking timidly up at the girl at whose feet they had fallen.

The girl, wearing the badge of the Slytherin House and carrying a riding broom, appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen, though short for her age- shorter than Meghan, in fact. She was pale with freckles and strawberry-blonde hair that was gathered at the back of her head into a ponytail. Her eyes were a light blue-grey that stared Meghan down intently as the latter made to slip the halves of the broken rock into her pocket.

"Where did you get that thing?" the girl asked, not unkindly, but with a perceptible earnestness.

"I-I'd rather not say," Meghan mumbled, wiping the rocks onto her robe to brush off dust.

"You know, that's something really rare right there," the girl commented.

"Maybe it's for jewelry or something." Meghan smiled nervously.

"Don't be bloody stupid," the girl snapped, as if Meghan had insulted her. "Not only is it too big to be on a necklace, it's _far_ too special for something so trivial." She pointed at the rocks. "That's more than just any real jewel there. That's something powerful that you're supposed to keep private. You're not supposed to bring it out in a hall full of people like some show-off."

"I didn't mean…"

"Put it away!"

Meghan was too confused to give back the kind of snappy retort she was used to giving bullies back in primary school, but she simply closed her hand around the rock halves and rose to her feet. She looked the Slytherin girl straight in eye, and somehow felt a twinge of respect for the face that regarded her so intently.

"I have one just like that, almost," the other girl said softly. She held out her hand. "I am Adrienne Woods-Matrix, but I go by Crystal because it's my middle name, and just Matrix, because it's shorter and it sounds more interesting than just 'Woods.'"

Meghan took her hand and shook it awkwardly.

"Crystal Matrix."

"I am a seventh-year student in the Slytherin House, a prefect, and probably will be _the _captain of the Quidditch team, after this afternoon's tryouts." Crystal added, smirking. "I don't normally associate with first years, but am not above putting certain ones under my protection."

"Pleased to meet you," Meghan stammered, floored by the girl's cockiness. "How did you know I was a first-year?"

"You're new and you just have the look," Crystal replied, matter-of-factly.

Meghan raised an eyebrow.

"It was nice meeting you," Crystal concluded with a prim, tight-lipped smile. She drew her riding broom up by her side and strode off.

Meghan was too lost for words to say anything after Crystal. She simply shoved the rock halves and the wrapping far enough down into her robe pockets so that nobody else would get a glimpse, and then quickly hurried away, glancing furtively behind her as if she were being chased.

She made up her mind to put the rock away, hiding it beneath all her belongings, and keep it out of anyone else's sight or knowledge. She wouldn't even tell Anna about it.

Wherever Anna was.

* * *

Meghan retreated into the library, which was nearly deserted, except for a few scattered people, including Madam Pince, the librarian, who peered over her desk every now and then like a hawk to ensure that nobody was misbehaving. Not that there were many people to look at, anyway. After darting in and out among several wooden shelves piled high with dusty books, she came upon Breanna and Jessica sitting at the end of a row of tables. They had their backs turned to her and seemed to be walled in between enormous stacks of thick books. They were puzzling in hushed tones over a recipe in a Potions manual.

"I say that we brew it in the loo," Meghan heard Jessica say. "There's this stall that no one ever goes into, because it's haunted."

"You mean by Moaning Myrtle?" Breanna asked.

"Yes."

"But she's always throwing tantrums, so she might tip or throw the cauldron."

"She's not a poltergeist."

"She's still a whining grouch who might tell on us."

"She wouldn't bother. She's too preoccupied with her own untold misery to tell on anyone for anything. But if she moans, don't tell her to shut up. We might need her noise to cover ours."

"Uh…hello," Meghan interjected timidly.

Both girls, startled, turned, and then relaxed when they saw who it was.

"What are you doing?" Meghan asked.

"Come here," Jessica whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Why-"

"Don't _say _anything, just- just come closer," Jessica whispered just as quietly as before, but more severely.

Meghan tiptoed to where the girls were sitting, and peered over their shoulders, where their eyes were glued to a beaten-looking page where a potion recipe was written out under the faded graphic of a steaming cauldron. Meghan didn't bother to read it in detail, but one quick glimpse told her that it was difficult, and meant for older students- fifth-years, perhaps, but not two curious first-years like Breanna and Jessica.

"I don't understand why you're trying to do really hard potions like this," Meghan commented, but Breanna sharply turned around and shot her a look that was both desperate and irritated.

"Quiet!" Jessica insisted, and then, after a moment, "Look up. But don't be too obvious about it. Just glance up, kind of."

Meghan did, and saw that, at a few tables across from them, Oliver Wood and Maile Shield were sitting a few tables away, turned so that Meghan, Breanna, and Jessica could see them head-on, but they were looking directly at each other. Meghan watched in irritation as Maile smiled at Oliver and put her hand on his shoulder. Oliver brushed a wisp of hair out of her face and kissed her lips, all the while exchanging words that Meghan could at best hear in random, incomprehensible snatches.

"It's disgusting," Breanna said.

"Maile could do so much better," Meghan agreed.

Breanna looked up at Meghan in shock and horror.

"What are you _talking _about?"

Jessica put her head in her hands.

"Breanna," she said carefully, "Meghan got into a fight with him the other day, and let's just say that she doesn't like him.

"I didn't 'get into' a fight with anyone," Meghan protested. "I just fell into his stupid broom through no fault of my own and he bawled me out for it. Who even brings a riding broom to Latin class?"

"Shh!" Breanna hissed, glancing fearfully at Oliver.

Jessica, unperturbed, got up from the table and led Meghan to a deserted corner several paces away.

"Breanna likes him," Jessica explained, when they were at a safe distance. "She likes him _so_ much that she wants to stare at him even when he's kissing his girlfriend, but at any rate, we're doing advanced potions on the side for extra credit and to know enough to stay ahead of the class. So it's not a complete waste of time."

"You're such swots." Meghan laughed uneasily.

"Well, Breanna always insists that we do these things when he's around, so that he can see that she's doing advanced work, and then maybe he'll think she's at his level, and- _like_ her, you know. Or something like that."

They looked over at Breanna, and although her back was to them, they could see that her head turned away from the cumbersome potion recipe and longingly up toward the couple in front of her. Meghan thought of the longing that she herself had had for Alec Pope, and how much Oliver Wood angered her now.

Meghan huffed to herself and casually walked back to the table with Jessica. They sat down calmly as if to forget what they had just discussed.

In another moment, two Ravenclaw girls walked in from the room, whom Meghan remembered from the Sorting Ceremony as being Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe.

"Hi, Breanna," Marietta said cheerfully, with a high giggle in her voice that suggested that her greeting was only for show.

Breanna granted the two a perfunctory nod and turned back to her potions book. She didn't try to hide her annoyance they took a seat across from her, Meghan, and Jessica and blocked her view.

"You haven't introduced me to your friends," said Marietta, while Cho cast fleeting glances over her shoulder.

Breanna shrugged, remaining fixed on her book.

"Say, what kind of reading is that, anyway?" Marietta peered over the edges. "It doesn't look like what we were assigned."

"It's not," Breanna said simply.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"For fun.

"Fun?" Cho laughed incredulously. "That's what you think is fun?"

"It looks hard," Marietta commented, only mildly interested.

Beyond her, Meghan could see that Oliver and Maile had gotten up and gathered their books, and seemed to be walking toward them.

"Is it detention work?" asked Cho, who was pulling a mirror out of her robe pocket while smoothing her shiny black hair with her hands.

"No!" Breanna snapped at Cho, who became startled. She calmed down to a civil tone, but continued firmly, "We're doing _advanced_ work, and for no other reason than that we're up to the challenge and that Professor Snape tells as that we're certainly smart enough to do it."

Marietta looked suspicious.

"Snape _never_ tells anyone but the Slytherins that they do well."

"Maybe we're special, then," Jessica coolly retorted.

Oliver and Maile were passing right by them as they walked out, in time for Breanna to add, at a suspiciously high volume,

"These advanced potions really aren't that hard, anyway."

Meghan regarded Oliver sourly, and he seemed to return the same look to her before taking a meaningful glance down at the riding broom that he was carrying protectively by his side.

She realized that he must be headed to Quidditch tryouts.

_And I hope he loses, _she thought nastily.

Marietta abruptly lost interest Breanna's potion work when she saw Cho slinking curiously after the couple that had just left, and more conspicuously than she seemed to realize. Marietta followed Cho out dutifully, almost protectively, leaving the others alone.

_ Oh, Merlin…_The realization came on Meghan like a sickening epiphany. _Cho Chang likes that awful boy too!_

"Well…" She turned back to Breanna and Jessica. "I've got to get going. Are you coming, too? Her eyes flitted back to where Maile and Wood had been sitting. "There's nothing left to see here, I suppose.

"I'm not going back to the Ravenclaw wing, if that's what you mean," Breanna replied, unperturbed. "If Marietta and Cho are going back there any time soon, I don't want to be around."

Jessica shrugged and turned back to their books.

"Well, 'bye, then," said Meghan. "See you at supper."

She turned around without waiting for them to respond, and left the library without another word, wondering all the while: what could _any_ girl, let alone three, see in that despicable boy?

* * *

Back in her room, Meghan wandered absentmindedly out the window, seeing in the distance that people were trying out for Quidditch. From her view, the Quaffle was just a little red dot soaring back and forth between hoops that looked like the plastic wands from which she liked to blow bubbles when she was younger. She watched as blank little figures in black robes zoomed around them, hitting the red dot. The two black-dot Bludgers swirled around the players like flies. She hoped that they would hit Oliver Wood if he was one of the zooming figures up there.

Meghan looked away, and her mind was turned back to the mysterious rock, which she then pulled out of her robe pocket. She paused again and again to look at it, hypnotized by its intricate curves and edges, its smoothness and its sharpness, its blood-red depth, and its sparkle in the light. She drew in a breath of wonder, and then folded it back in the wrapping and buried it at the bottom of her deepest trunk. She locked the trunk securely, and then shoved it quietly under her bed, looking surreptitiously over her shoulder every now and then to see that nobody was watching.

After drawing the canopy curtains on her bed, Meghan spent the afternoon arranging her Band music. Still, she could not shake off thought of the rock, which had imprinted itself on her mind, and seemed to be irritating her beneath the very bed, like in the tale about the princess and the pea.

The feeling was almost spooky.

But burying a rock under her bed was not quite as heavy as burying a secret in her mind, so she resolved to keep the curious treasure safe in both places, even though she had no idea why she had received it.


	24. The Seeker and the Food Fight

By the time Meghan remembered that it was time to go to supper, the Great Hall was already filling up with students who were tired and hungry after a long day of tryouts.

"I can't wait to find out about the Quidditch tryouts," Maile Shield was bubbling to Jen Hart, only steps away. "I am _so_ nervous. What if Oliver will makes it, and I don't?"

"I suppose you can go back to playing the drums," Jen laughed nervously. "Or get a piccolo and join me." She gave Maile a sympathetic hug, but she clearly looked just as worried.

It was then that a particular suspicion grew in Meghan's mind and infuriated her.

She found a seat at her table next to George and Lee Jordan, and across from Fred, Angelina, and Anna. Anna had her face buried in her hands.

And so it was confirmed.

"First time I've seen you all day," Meghan said coldly. "Too busy trying out for the Quidditch team not to say a word about it?"

Anna looked up, her face blotchy and distressed.

"I didn't make it," she answered back tiredly. "So it serves me right."

"What? For backing out of the Band you _said _you'd be in, and leaving me without any explanation whatsoever?

"I can explain…"

"You should have _explained_ that you were trying out for the Quidditch team beforehand, so that I didn't have to wonder why you weren't doing Band, or why I have to spend the rest of the year alone there when you made it _clear_ that I wouldn't have to!"

"Meg, I'm sorry- I've been practicing at making the Quidditch team for the whole summer," Anna mourned, pulling a handkerchief from a deep pocket in her robe, and dragging it across her sweaty forehead. "I at least wanted to _try_ to make it. But I won't now." She looked imploringly at Meghan. "I don't even know what I was thinking…"

"You weren't bad at everything," Fred soothingly interjected. "You could have done better with the Quaffle on both sides of the hoop, but it was those Beaters who were really having problems. And you did catch the Snitch at least twice. "

"No, no…I'm so sorry, Meg," Anna groaned, putting her head in her hand. "I never should have done it. It was just an impulse."

"It wasn't an impulse if you practiced all summer," Meghan snapped.

"Will the students please sit down and be silent for a few announcements?" boomed a voice from the High Table.

It was Professor Dumbledore. Everybody immediately obeyed.

When they found their places at the tables, the Great Hall fell silent. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As you already know, your heads of houses have evaluated your hard work today in trying out for your potential extracurricular activities. For all the activities in which membership is not automatically assured, I will have each head of house read off the names of those who qualify for the selection for their team.

"We will start with announcing the members of our Quidditch teams, for that seems to be the activity that is looked forward to the most," Dumbledore concluded.

Applause rang out from the students, and many were banging spoons and empty goblets on the tables in anticipation. Anna let out a small, despairing moan and covered her face in her hands again.

When the room fell silent, Professor McGonagall stood up from her place at the High Table, holding a small list written on a bit of parchment in her hand.

"I am pleased to inform you that of all the very qualified people who tried out today, seven made Gryffindor's Quidditch team. So first, I will announce the captain. Would each player please stand at the mention of his or her name?" She paused, and the whole Gryffindor table looked at her in apprehension.

"Our captain is...Megan Fowler, a seventh-year student!"

Wild applause rang out from the Gryffindor table as a slightly-built, athletic-looking seventeen-year-old girl with brown hair stood up and wiped a few beads of sweat from her brow. She bowed to everyone at her table.

"…who is also a Chaser for the team, just as she has been for the past two years," Professor McGonagall added. More shouts and applause rang from the Gryffindors.

"And a fourth-year student, Oliver Wood, is our Keeper again this year!"

More cheers rang out, and Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were shouting "Yeah!" and "Way to go, Wood!" Oliver stood up, looking much more amicable now than when he and Meghan had collided in the hallway. Meghan groaned and slid down in her seat.

"We have two new Beaters," Professor McGonagall continued. "Let us all congratulate two second-year students…Fred and George Weasley!"

She barely finished her sentence when the Gryffindor table wildly applauded again. Meghan's spirits instantly lifted but Anna just smiled weakly and said, "Well, at least _they_ made it."

"Our other Chasers," Professor McGonagall's voice boomed, "are a seventh-year named Alicia Gruenther, and a third-year named Maile Shield!"

Amid another round of applause and gleeful shouting, Maile screamed with delight and hugged Oliver Wood, and they exchanged a long kiss. Anna just sighed.

"That's not all," Professor McGonagall's voice boomed again. "Our last and _certainly_ not least player is our Seeker, and our Seeker is…drum roll, please…"

The Gryffindor students pounded their fists on the table in a fast-paced, excited rhythm.

"A second-year student named…ANNA MACYNSKI!"

The Gryffindor table roared out their biggest round of applause yet. Anna looked up in shock, too dazed to believe her good fortune. As Fred and Angelina pushed at her to stand up, the corners of her mouth turned upwards into a grin, and she squeaked, "Me…the_ Seeker_?"

"An-NA, An-NA, An-NA!" Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee Jordan chanted over and over again. When they sat down, George turned and caught Meghan's eyes, and noticed that they were glazed over and sad.

"What's wrong?" he asked, under Professor McGonagall's final speech of congratulations for her House's team. "Isn't this all good?"

Meghan leaned closer to George, so that their conversations couldn't be heard.

"Anna walked out on me to be the Seeker," she whispered back.

"Aw, come on- she wasn't being mean or anything. She just knew it was the right time, and that she wanted you around on game days."

"She could have told me beforehand."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get out of here."

"Why?"

"Because you want to feel better. Let's just…slide out for a few minutes."

"But McGonagall's speaking now."

"McGonagall doesn't have to know."

Before Professor Sprout could arise to introduce the new Hufflepuff team members, Meghan and George had slid down from their chairs and under the table. They pulled the thick crimson tablecloth down behind them to muffle any outside sounds, and George pulled out his wand and whispered, "Lumos!"

By the light of his wand, they huddled together and talked, arguing back and forth, with George defending Anna at every turn. But Meghan wasn't convinced.

"Why would she just step out on me like that? I don't want to sound like a total bitch, when she got what she really wanted, but she could have told me she might not be in Band with me this year."

"I think she was going to, but she kept putting it off," George replied. "Actually, I thought she had already told you, so I didn't say anything."

Meghan opened her mouth to protest, so George added,

"She wasn't trying to trick you. She just thought that you wouldn't join if she told you she might not be there.

"Why would she think that?"

"She says that you're very sensitive about being alone."

Meghan's lower lip quivered.

"I'm not _sensitive_," she shot back defensively. "I know I should be happy that she made the team. But I'm just so sick about the fact that-"

"Look, she never wanted to leave you out of everything like that. She just didn't know how to tell you what she wanted to do."

"It's still not fair."

"Maybe not. But if it makes you feel better, Anna felt bad about leaving Band for Quidditch. She just had to choose one."

_But she didn't choose me, _Meghan thought angrily, as she and George crept out from under the table as inconspicuously as they could.

* * *

"Well, that seems to be everything," Professor Dumbledore's voice concluded from the High Table, as Meghan and George settled back into their seats. "Before you have your dinner, I would like to thank you for your undivided presence and attention."

Meghan thought that he seemed to be staring at her, and gulped.

But no one else seemed to have noticed. Everybody started eating ravenously, relishing the relief of being through with the day's stress. Anna was buttering a roll and looking rather contented now, unlike a few others at the table, who sported sulky faces and only picked at their food.

"They didn't make the team," Anna explained to Meghan, with a tinge of pity. "I thought I was going to be one of them tonight."

Meghan nodded limply, swallowing a mouthful of broccoli.

Dinner went on uninterrupted. Lulled into a long silence underscored by the frequent sounds of sipping and chewing for about twenty minutes to half an hour (she wasn't intent on keeping track), Meghan retreated back to her mind and stared into space. She forked bites of food into her mouth one after the other, stewing over the hopeful expectations that had been thrown off-kilter. Bitter about Quidditch, she kept eating so she wouldn't be asked to join in when the others discussed it in unfeelingly excited tones.

She did not even notice the progression of dinner, or even when all of the teachers, including Professor Dumbledore, retired to their quarters, leaving the High Table empty. Fred and George had each consumed a generous amount of mashed potatoes and gravy, a thick slice of meatloaf, a pile of broccoli, a wheat roll, and a dish of chocolate pudding at lightning speed, and washed it all down with three goblets of pumpkin juice apiece. Then they wiped their mouths and leapt up from the table.

"I've got to go," Fred whispered hurriedly to Anna, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "George and I have some business to take care of."

"What kind of business?" Anna asked him, suspiciously.

"The private kind," Fred said hurriedly, "But I'll see you in the common room tonight, all right?"

Without waiting for a response, he and George scampered out of the Great Hall.

"Honestly," said Anna, taking a sip from her goblet. "They're always up to something."

"Maybe they're planning a celebration prank for making the Quidditch team," Angelina suggested. "You never can tell with those two."

"Still, they could at least stick around a little while- "

"Look, I have to go, too," Meghan interrupted, wiping her mouth and getting up from the table. "No dessert for me. I have some Charms homework to finish."

Meghan pushed her chair in after leaving the table, and proceeded toward the doorway of the Great Hall.

But as she walked through the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, she saw Oliver Wood pointing at her and dramatically proclaiming to Percy Weasley,

"…but if _she_ had not collided into me and damaged my broom in the hallway, I could have ruled the tryouts and not just made them."

Meghan felt a surge of red-hot anger well up inside her. She ran up to Oliver and grabbed his shirt collar, taking him by surprise.

"Listen, you little shit," she snarled, looking him straight in the eyes. "You made the Quidditch team and became the Keeper, didn't you? Had I known you'd still be pissing off about your stupid broom, I would have broken it into a thousand pieces before you even took it to the field!"

And before Oliver could say anything, Meghan grabbed his drinking goblet and threw the contents at his face.

For a moment, Meghan was so stunned by what she had just done that she let go of his collar and took a step back, letting the goblet slip out of her other hand and clatter to the floor. Maile gasped in horror from her seat beside Oliver. Almost everybody at the Gryffindor table and a few people from the Hufflepuff table had fallen silent, marveling at the pumpkin juice dripping down from his face.

There was a moment of silence, and then Oliver picked up a dish of mashed potatoes and hurled the contents at Meghan. Splattered with gobs of the white mush, Meghan retaliated by grabbing a couple of rolls and a handful of broccoli and throwing it all squarely in Oliver's face. Oliver returned the insult by hurling an entire pitcher of pumpkin juice, which immediately soaked through Meghan's robes. Meghan then summoned all her strength and charged at Oliver, grabbing him by the shoulders and ramming him back against the table.

Within and instant it had turned into a vicious fistfight. Everybody from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables was staring at them by this time, and many students from the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Tables, including Breanna, Cho Chang and Evan Bulstrode, had wandered over to get a good look at the spectacle. People barely noticed when Breanna pulled out her wand and waved it at the fighters, whispering something that no one but her could hear. A faint trail of light floated out, but nothing seemed to happen.

Amid raucous chants of "Fight Fight! Fight!" Meghan scratched Oliver's face with her fingernails and kicked him at every opportunity, and Oliver in turn twisted her arm and tugged at her hair. Both were hollering and cursing at each other. Percy Weasley and Maile Shield had seized hold of Oliver, while Lee, Anna and Angelina Johnson were gripping on to Meghan's arms, trying to pull them apart.

It did not end there.

Peter Dyer, who had wandered over from the Slytherin table to get a glimpse at the action, was tired of being a spectator. Out of boredom and spite, he grabbed a nearby bowl of mashed potatoes and hurled it at the Gryffindor table. It ended up hitting Atalanta, splattering all over her robes, and she screamed in shock.

The Bell sisters, outraged, jumped up from the table and ran up to Peter, who cried out as Katie gripped his neck with her hands and Theresa punched him in the stomach. Marcus Flint and Evan Bulstrode ran to Peter's rescue, pulling the two girls off of him and then twisting their arms behind their backs. Roger Davies and Stephanie Wolfe, in turn, ran up to defend the Bell sisters by tripping Evan and Marcus to the ground and performing hexes on them.

Thus the fight grew. Evan, now covered in purple warts, let go of Theresa when he fell, got back up again, and shoved Roger toward the Hufflepuff table. Roger flung his arms out to break his fall and ended up smacking Emmy Perkins in the face, breaking her glasses and bloodying her nose. Emmy burst into tears, and Beth Simon rushed over to comfort her while Jessica reached over and wiped the blood off her face with a napkin. But Andi Shield, who was feeling more malicious, lashed out and scratched Roger in the face, as if the mishap had been intentional. So Katie Large ran over to pull her off of Roger, and Medea Nott, who was standing nearby, stuck her leg in the middle of Katie's path, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Alyssa Carmona, enraged, sent an engorgement charm in Medea's direction, causing the latter's ears to swell to the size of turnips. Asia Tonks sent another curse toward Medea, causing her face to be covered with ugly green boils.

Medea shook her head of stringy blonde hair and screeched in fury while Greg Monaco, Bailey Browning, and Jock McThick fired a cascade of dung bombs at Alyssa, Lauren Holt, and Mai Nguyen, causing a suffocating stench for half the Gryffindor table. Breanna and Cho Chang avenged the Gryffindor girls by attacking Greg and Jock with Bat-Bogey hexes, while Ashley Ruddy fired a curse at Bailey, who instantly started spitting up slugs all over a meatloaf platter on the table, nauseating everyone around him.

Within a short time, almost everyone in the Great Hall was in one way or another involved in the fight, hurling food and silverware and insults. The few people who weren't fighting either tried in vain to split up the brawl or ran out of the Great Hall in fright while others, such as Laura Dixon and Nick Kupay, were having a grand time flinging buttered rolls back and forth at each other with slingshots, using their dinner plates as shields. To make things worse, Peeves the Poltergeist then wandered in, and, delighting in all the chaos, started swinging from the chandelier, hurling plates and goblets and the occasional flaming torch in every direction. One of the torches ignited the hem of Asia's robes, so she ran around the area on fire, screaming, until Beth Simon and Cedric Diggory could get a hold of her and extinguish the flames with a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice. The Fat Friar then had to summon the Bloody Baron over to chase Peeves out of the room before he could do any more damage.

Meanwhile, Meghan and Oliver, only half aware of the chaos brewing around them, were still in a raging fistfight, and their friends were still hanging onto them in a vain effort to separate them. Whenever any of the friends succeeded in pulling them apart, Meghan and Oliver would just brush them off and lunge at each other again.

The shouting and mayhem were at its height when Nearly Headless Nick flew into the room and shouted at the top of his voice:

"STOP! STOP IT, THE LOT OF YOU!"

The students fell silent and looked up at the ceiling, where the ghost was swirling frantically around the room, shouting his warning. Only Meghan and Oliver dared to keep fighting, ignoring all else but the goal of making the last move.

"Madam Hooch will be coming back any minute now to see what's going on," Nearly Headless Nick rasped, "And you'll be all the worse for it if she sees you fighting!"

Nobody moved.

"WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Nick bellowed, waving his ghostly arms in fury. "EVERYONE, GET BACK TO YOUR PLACES!"

His words were nothing less than a charm. Goblets, plates, and spoons clattered as they were dropped to the ground. The students stopped everything they were doing and sprinted back to their House tables.

Just as they had gotten back in place and had pasted on innocent faces, Madam Hooch strode into the room, followed by the Grey Lady.

Percy, Maile, Lee, Anna, and Angelina Johnson were the last to scurry back to their seats, leaving Meghan and Oliver the only ones in the room still fighting. So it was that when Madam Hooch entered the Great Hall, the first thing she saw in her enraged tunnel vision was not all the broken dishes, not all the scratches and bruises and bloody noses on the other students, and not the food splattered all over the floor, but Oliver Wood nursing a bite mark on his neck and holding Meghan in a headlock, while Meghan was clawing at his arm. Madam Hooch gasped in anger and ran up to grab the two remaining offenders by their robe collars before either of them could blame each other or protest. Everyone else guiltily craned their necks to see what would happen next.

"Both of you come with me to the headmaster's office _this instant_!" she roared, half dragging Meghan and Oliver from the floor. "You two will be _very _lucky if you aren't expelled!"

Meghan and Oliver exchanged looks of loathing and spite mixed with dread as they silently followed Madam Hooch to the office, wondering what terrible punishment would be in store for them.


	25. Punishment

As Madam Hooch dragged Meghan and Oliver alongside her, holding onto the collars of their robes as they went down the hall, Meghan's heart sank. _How could I have been so unbelievably stupid_, she thought over and over in disdain. Only now, after her anger at Oliver had subsided, did she truly realize that all the food and dishes on the floor and all the black eyes and bloody noses in the Great Hall had started with her, as soon as she had decided to pick up his drink goblet.

Of course, it couldn't completely have been her fault, for she didn't recall how she set up the chain reaction that led to an all-out fight.

_Still though,_ she thought, _Everyone's going to blame it all on me and say that I started it, and I'm going to be expelled._

Meghan gulped.

_Now Mum will hate me, and she'll send me to another muggle school where everyone else will hate me, too. And all because I couldn't go for two stupid weeks without getting into trouble!_

Feeling like crying, she glanced over at Oliver Wood to see if he seemed to feel anything like she did. But his face was blank, and he didn't look back at her.

_So much for Maile Shield's handsome boyfriend,_ Meghan thought. _Why does_ _Breanna __even want him?_

Her anger at Oliver boiled up again.

_It wasn't just me! _she thought._ He fought, and practically everyone in the entire Great Hall put in a few kicks and punches and shoves themselves, and I just know that they're all going to say it was me so that they can save their own stupid, sorry asses…_

She seethed.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

Wrapped up as she was in her anger, she did not pay attention when a large stone gargoyle came in to view, and Madam Hooch stopped in front of it and uttered the incantation of, "Fizzing Whizbees!"

Upon it, the gargoyle ceased to be stone and came to life. It jumped aside to reveal an opening had been formed by the walls, which had split into two as if they were doors. A spiral staircase was sliding upward in this opening, and Madam Hooch, without hesitating, pushed Meghan and Oliver onto it before she herself stepped on. The walls closed again, and the staircase rose upward.

Meghan sucked in a breath and let it out in a long, low whistle as the staircase spun in dizzying circles. She was relieved when the contraption stopped with a startling jolt. Then her heart sank as Madam Hooch stepped off, turned to a well-polished oak door beside her, and rapped on it three times with its griffin-shaped, brass door knocker.

A voice was heard faintly on the other side of the door, saying, "Severus, would you please get that?" Then there were a few footsteps, and the door swung open so that Meghan and Oliver could see their sallow-skinned Potions professor wrinkling his hooked nose and sneering at them through a curtain of greasy, black hair.

"Come in, Madam Hooch," he said coldly, staring at Oliver and Meghan up and down, already knowing that they were in trouble. Madam Hooch nodded to Snape and stepped through the doorway, dragging Meghan and Oliver with her. Snape closed the door behind her and smirked.

For a moment, Meghan forgot her dread and surveyed the place in awe. Professor Dumbledore's office was an amazing room, large and circular, and the walls were covered with portraits of sleeping people in nightgowns and caps who emitted soft snoring sounds every now and then. There were spindle-legged tables all around that bore various silver objects that puffed smoke and made little whirring noises. Meghan stood there, slack-jawed in amazement. She turned to see that Oliver was furrowing his eyebrows, no less astounded than her by all the room's curiosities.

In the midst of all the curious surroundings, Professor Dumbledore was sitting at an enormous claw-footed desk, observing the trio from behind his half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall was standing beside him, indignantly curious why two students from her House should be brought to the headmaster's office at that time of night.

"What problem do we have here?" Dumbledore asked after a moment.

"Professor Dumbledore, this matter is of most grave concern!" Madam Hooch exclaimed. "About ten minutes ago, The Grey Lady came to me in distress, telling me that there was chaos brewing in the Great Hall. So I went in there, and there were these two," she indicated Meghan and Oliver, "fighting with each other by their table!"

As Madam Hooch proceeded in giving her raging account, a spot of crimson flashed at the corner of Meghan's eye. She turned around and noticed for the first time that there was a golden perch by the door where the sneering Professor Snape stood, and on that perch stood a dazzling red bird. It was the size of a swan, with a long tail and talons glittering and gleaming with gold. It seemed to be staring straight at Meghan.

"I see you notice my Phoenix bird, Fawkes," Dumbledore's voice said gently.

Meghan spun around again to see Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling at her.

"Erm…well, I guess so," Meghan mumbled, embarrassed. "I couldn't help but notice…he's a very beautiful bird. I didn't know that Phoenixes really existed."

"Of course they do." Dumbledore nodded and leaned back in his chair. "So… is there anything you two would like to say to this testimony that Madam Hooch has given me? Is it really true that you were fighting in the Great Hall?"

"Professor, I can explain," Oliver piped up. "_I_ didn't start the fight we had. _She _did." he glared at Meghan. "She just ran up to me and threw my own cup of pumpkin juice in my face for no reason at all…"

"That's a lie!" Meghan shouted. "You were the one who told Percy Weasley that it was _my_ fault that _your_ riding broom-"

"Please keep your voice down, Miss Wolf," Professor McGonagall sternly reproached her. "I get the impression that you have had enough trouble controlling your anger tonight."

Meghan's mind flashed back to Anna, and she sighed.

"Please, I'll explain this," she pleaded to Dumbledore, who regarded her patiently, but with earnest. "It didn't really start in the Great Hall. It started some time before that. I was going off to Latin class one night, and I somehow slipped and fell down the stairs. Then I crashed into _him_…" she glared at Oliver, "and I apparently caused some _injury _to his broom. I swear it wasn't my fault!

"Well, I was walking out of the Great Hall tonight so I could go and finish my homework, and Oliver here was sitting next to someone and telling him that I was the reason why he didn't do as well as he could have at tryouts. But I don't remember the broom being that badly damaged. It was only a bit dented, and he made the Quidditch team anyway!"

Oliver opened his mouth and made a sound of protest, but Dumbledore waved his hand to silence him.

"And then," Meghan continued, "I know that this is my fault, but I was so mad that I just pounced on him at that point. I mean, he had been blaming me for the mishap for _days_, and I just snapped!"

There was a pause.

"I'm not sure how everybody else got to fighting," Meghan added slowly, "But it had _nothing_ to do with me."

"Or me," Oliver snapped.

"What is this about 'everybody else'?" Dumbledore probed, puzzled. He glanced warily at Madam Hooch. "Weren't you two the only ones fighting?"

"No-o…" Meghan and Oliver answered in puzzled unison.

Professor Snape made _tsk-_ing noise and stepped forward.

"Really, Minerva," he said smoothly. "You would think that the head of the Gryffindor House would be able to teach her students better than that! You would never catch any of the_ Slytherin _students picking fights at dinner." He regarded Meghan and Oliver with contempt. "It looks like it's a special night for Gryffindors to make trouble. Tell me, Minerva, is this some kind of tradition?"

Professor McGonagall glared at Snape as a knock sounded at the door.

Madam Hooch went over to the door and opened it, and in stepped Madam Pince, dragging two girls along with her. The light fell on their school robes as they were brought before Dumbledore's desk, revealing their Slytherin crests and prefect badges.

"These girls were caught fighting outside the library," Madam Pince said indignantly. "They were tossing food, hitting, scratching, and pulling each other's hair…it was despicable. They ought to be ashamed."

"She started it," one girl protested. "She punched me, and then she-"

"You were the one who scratched me!" the other one interrupted.

"Well, you threw the gravy dish at me!" the first one snarled back. "It was your fault and you know it!"

Professor McGonagall smiled triumphantly at Professor Snape, whose self-righteous sneer had collapsed in horrified disbelief.

"_Nobody_ from your house would pick a fight at dinner, Severus? Certainly the prefects themselves wouldn't, at any rate!"

Meghan tried to hide a grin as she observed the two girls, who were as disheveled as she was. To her amazement, of them as Crystal Matrix, who had looked so put-together when they had first met over the amazing ruby. The other girl was a little taller, with straight, dark hair, brown eyes, and a sharp, angular nose and chin. She was holding a broomstick similar to Oliver's. Meghan could barely read the words _Cleansweep 7_ printed on the handle in gold. The girl's face was littered with gravy and scratch-marks.

"Girls, I am ashamed of you!" Professor Snape roared. "You two are prefects and Quidditch players! You are the last two people that the librarian should see fighting, when you are to instead be setting an example for the other students!"

Meghan and Oliver at once turned around by the sudden chill on their shoulders as Nearly Headless Nick, who had just floated in through a wall, put a protecting arm over each of them.

"Professor Dumbledore, I think some further explanation is needed here," he said.

By the nonplussed look on Dumbledore's face, he could not have said it better himself. He had looked forward to a quiet evening, but instead he had to deal with incidents involving six students, all irritable and angry and looking to him for judgment, when few could agree on who had done what. So he took a deep breath and said:

"Would you four students kindly step up to my desk?"

Meghan, Oliver, Crystal, and the other Slytherin girl quietly obeyed. When all were assembled in a line in front of the desk, Dumbledore studied them curiously through his half-moon spectacles. Just looking into the professor's soft blue eyes made Meghan drop her own to the ground, ashamed to have bothered this kindly old man.

"Well, you all have something in common, it seems," Dumbledore observed. "You have each perpetrated some kind of scuffle tonight_._"

_ "_Professor, I didn't start a thing," the dark-haired Slytherin girl protested. "It was Matrix's fault!"

"Miss Malfoy…Excuse me, what is your first name again?"

"It's Sexybitch Malfoy," the girl answered sweetly.

Meghan looked over at the girl in disbelief.

"Oh, that's…right," Dumbledore said uneasily. "I had forgotten that."

He didn't seem the least bit surprised at this information, so it then occurred to Meghan that the girl was not joking. She wrinkled her nose and wondered what in the world possessed this girl's parents to give their daughter such a name.

"Anyway," Dumbledore continued, "As I was saying, uh, Miss…"

"You can call me SB," the girl said matter-of-factly. "I don't mind if you do."

"Miss SB Malfoy, then," Dumbledore said. "Understand that I am not asking who _started _the fights that went on. I am asking who _participated_ in them. According to various witnesses, you all did in some way or another. Does anyone object to that?"

Everyone was silent.

"That's settled then," Dumbledore concluded. "In that case, I would like for you four to step outside, where the staircase will take you down to the floor. Wait right near the stone gargoyle while your professors and I discuss this matter. This time, I hope you all will behave in a more civilized manner. Can I trust you to do that?"

There was a general murmur of assent from the four, and they walked toward the door in silence. Oliver jumped ahead of the other three, pulled open the heavy oak door, and made a show of politely ushering the girls onto the staircase right outside.

"Well, Wood," McGonagall stiffly remarked. "It's good to see that you can still be a gentleman, even if you've already lost your temper once tonight."

Oliver nodded humbly to her and stepped onto the platform.

When he closed the door behind him, the staircase lurched into action and spun downward, and Meghan could feel her stomach sinking with it. She looked up at the oak door, which was getting farther and farther away with the descent of the spiraling staircase, and tried to imagine what the group of angry professors were saying on the other side. They were all in that office right now, discussing _punishment._

The word reverberated through her mind, and the more it did, the sicker Meghan became. Punishment itself was nothing new to her, thanks to her tumultuous years at Sir Walter Raleigh, but this was something completely different from the past detentions and the frequent visits to the headmistress' office. Back then, she had mastered a certain sort of brinkmanship about the pranks she pulled, always allowing some prevailing concern for her mother and the shame that came from it to keep her behavior restrained within a teacher's knowledge. Otherwise, her morose apathy would have taken her across any line.

This time, however, she realized that she hadn't felt the pangs her mother's quiet worry for weeks. Nor had it ever occurred to her that, at long last, she might actually _regret_ being kicked out of school.

If the others were as morbidly worried as Meghan, they didn't show it. They were dispassionately staring at their feet while clinging onto a pole at the center, trying to keep balanced against the rapid spinning of the staircase. They were conspicuously making sure not to touch anyone else's arm or make eye contact. Nobody spoke.

The spinning stopped when the staircase hit the ground with a jolt, and the walls opened once more to allow the students out. When everyone had stepped off the silence broke, and the Slytherin girls started to argue once more.

"Thanks, Matrix, look what you did now!"

"Get over it, Malfoy! It's not my fault that your stupid face deserved to get punched!"

"You're just jealous that _I'm_ the captain and Seeker of our Quidditch team, and _you're_ only a substitute for _my_ position!"

"Oh, am I? Well, you're just jealous that _I'm_ going out with Terrence Higgs!"

"Never. I have a boyfriend of my own, and he could run circles around Higgs."

"Shut up! You don't have a boyfriend; you're just making it up!"

"No, you shut up, I am NOT making him up!"

The girls walked a little bit down the hall as they argued, and Meghan was relieved to see that they were at least restraining from anything physical this time.

When the girls were a safe distance away, Oliver grabbed Meghan's arm and pulled her into a dark corner beside a nearby statue.

"What the _hell _are you doing?" Meghan hissed.

"I want to know what the hell you were thinking," Oliver snarled back.

"Oh, don't give me that! You continually blamed me for your stupid broom, when it hardly got nicked! And now you have the nerve to pin this whole incident on me!"

"Really? Well, thanks to _you_, I'll probably get kicked off of the Quidditch team, and just when I was about to make something of myself there!"

"That isn't my fault!"

"You just don't get it, do you? Four of us are in trouble tonight, and you're the only one who doesn't really have anything to lose, because you're only in your first year!"

"And just what do you mean by that?" Meghan snapped. "I am on the verge of getting kicked out of the school, just when I was actually beginning to fit in with the people there! _I_ wanted to make something of myself, too!

Oliver looked at her incredulously.

"But that's all going to be gone soon because I'll be expelled," Meghan angrily continued. "So don't say I have nothing to lose!"

"Don't be bloody stupid. You're not going to be expelled!"

"What do you mean?" Meghan stared at him, unblinking. "Wouldn't you get expelled for a food fight?"

"Well, normally we might," Oliver sourly replied, "But I suppose a dumb first-year like you wouldn't get a clue right away."

"I'm not dumb," Meghan snarled, but Oliver paid no attention.

"It's like this," Oliver continued. "Nearly Headless Nick is going to speak up for us. He's going to tell Professor Dumbledore that almost everyone in the Great Hall was fighting, because _he_ knows what was going on. You can't just expel the entire school!

"Another thing is that the fighting included _prefects_, as you can see from those two model citizens…" he gestured toward the hall to indicate the Slytherin girls, "…over there. You can't expel a younger student for fighting, even if she _did_ start it, because two prefects were doing the same thing somewhere else. The prefects won't get expelled, of course, because Snape is bound to make excuses for them. And you know that he'll always stick up for those morons in his House.

"But all the same, the prefects could lose their badges, Malfoy could lose her captaincy, and we could _all_ lose our places on the House Quidditch teams. And we don't want that." He gulped. "At least _I_ don't want to lose _my_ place."

"Well, I'm in the Flying Band. Wouldn't I get kicked out of that?

"Are you commanding it?" asked Oliver.

"Well...no"

"Then that's something completely different," he said. "I'm very likely to be captain _next_ year, after Megan Fowler and Alicia Gruenther graduate. That goal is _very_ important to me. But I would lose my opportunity for that if I lost my place on the team."

He sighed.

"Now, I can't honestly say that I like Crystal Matrix and not-so-Sexybitch Malfoy over there," he continued, "and in fact, I dislike them very much, because Slytherin is the enemy House. Not just opposing, like Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. _Enemy_. Gryffindor and Slytherin have _never _gotten along. It's tradition.

"The fact remains, though, that we three are on the same boat. We either have leading positions already or we have them just beyond our grasp. And now we might lose them. And, at least in my case, it started with you."

"It sure as hell didn't _end_ with you!" Meghan shouted. "You fought, too, and you knew what the consequences were. You can't play Mr. Innocent on this one, no matter how much you kiss up to McGonagall and try the to be such a damn perfect gentleman!"

"_I_ am doing all I can to save my place on the team!" Oliver was frantic. "I'll probably get punished worse than you, for fighting with a girl!" He pulled up the sleeves of his robes to reveal a row of red scratch marks on his arms. "Even if you did _this_."

"Well, you twisted my arm!"

"WELL, _YOU _STARTED THE FIGHT, YOU FUCKING TWIT!" Oliver bellowed, grabbing her arm like he meant to twist it. "_THAT_ IS FINAL, AND _YOU_ _CAN'T_ _CHANGE_ _IT_!"

He was gripping onto one of Meghan's wrists, squeezing so hard that Meghan figured her bones would break any second. She yelped in pain and cracked a hard slap across Oliver's face with her other hand, and he let go of her.

For a moment it there was complete silence as both Gryffindors stared each other down, fuming with rage. Oliver, now red-faced from his feverish outburst, realized for the first time how absolutely foolish Meghan looked with a mess of mashed potatoes adorning her dark hair. She was also soaking wet with the rivulets of sticky pumpkin juice running down her forehead, but the most ridiculous aspect of her was her mouth, comically twisted as it was.

"YOU …" Meghan sneered, but then stopped.

Oliver still had wet specks of juice in his hair, sparkling like crystals in the light. Her eyes traveled down to the smudge of garlic on his nose and the bruise forming on his cheek, to the bite mark on his neck, to the food stains on his robes and tie, to the drying blood on his arms. Her eyes opened wide. She had scratched him quite badly, indeed.

A faint haze seemed to creep over the edges of her mind, bubbling, even, like a fizzy drink. She let out a small giggle.

"What's so funny?" Oliver demanded.

"You are!" she cried out mirthfully. "You look so _funny_…" She was laughing hard now, and her eyes were welling with tears as she whispered, "Oh my goodness, you look so damned funny…" She trailed off, trying to catch her breath, and she looked at Oliver out of the corner of her eye. She began to feel pretty good, in spite of herself.

Especially when she saw that _he_ was sniggering a bit, too.

"You look pretty messed-up yourself," he chuckled, leaning back against the wall.

By now, Meghan was laughing so hard that she had to grip onto the statue nearby to keep her balance. Tears were streaming out of her eyes as she did so, and Oliver was chuckling hysterically and leaning on the wall for support.

"I can't believe how stupid that was," Meghan gasped for breath as she spoke. "First we were yelling at each other, then we fought, and then we yelled some more, and the next thing you know we're standing here, covered with our own _dinner_, for Merlin's sake! I don't know why that's supposed to be so funny…"

The two burst into hysterics once more.

"I can't believe it," Meghan chuckled, "You just look so hilarious when you're angry! I wonder how your girlfriend stands it!"

"You should talk!" Oliver replied, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

The laughter eventually subsided after a few minutes, and the two stood there, catching their breath, facing and seeing each other in a new light.

"Well," Oliver said, awkwardly straightening his collar. "I must confess; I acted quite stupidly about the whole broomstick incident."  
"So did I," Meghan admitted, shyly cocking her head. "With the fight, I mean."

"Anyway," Oliver turned his eyes downward, ashamed. "I'm sorry that I overreacted about my broom being dented. Maybe it won't matter that much this year if it didn't matter at tryouts. But I get really tense and irritable before Quidditch tryouts every year, and I become very likely to explode at someone. And…I regret that that someone had to be you."

"Oh, don't pull all that gentleman crap," Meghan playfully reproached him. "McGonagall isn't here right now to be sucked up to."

"But I mean it. And if you say that the whole incident wasn't your fault, I believe you. It _had_ to have been an accident."

Meghan smiled.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have attacked you, no matter how angry I was. I'll tell Professor Dumbledore that it was my fault, and that you were only defending yourself."

"But I continued the fight," Oliver protested.  
"But I _started_ it," Meghan argued. "You even said so yourself. I mean, you don't want to lose your chances at the Gryffindor Quidditch captaincy next year, do you?"

Oliver thoughtfully considered this.

"So it's a truce, then?" he finally said.

"Yeah…it's a truce, Oliver."

"Call me Wood. That's what all my friends call me."

Meghan giggled, and then stupidly added, "I feel so good right now."

Just then, the stone gargoyle came to life once more. When it jumped away, the spinning staircase was bearing the professors on it, lead by Professor Dumbledore and followed by Nearly Headless Nick. They stepped off (Nick floated off), and Meghan's dread came back to her again.

But she remembered the promise she had made to Wood, so she swallowed over the lump in her throat and stepped forward.

"Professor Dumbledore…McGonagall," she started timidly, "I started the food fight. It was my fault, so _please_ don't kick Wood off of the Quidditch team."

Professors McGonagall and Snape regarded this sudden change of heart with narrowed eyes, but Professor Dumbledore's face stayed the same.

"I never said that I was going to kick anyone off of any team, Miss Wolf."

Meghan and Wood looked a little confused, and so did Crystal Matrix and SB Malfoy, who had just come back from where they had been arguing a moment ago.

"Well…what _are_ you going to do?" Meghan asked, her voice quavering.

"Nearly Headless Nick informed me that almost everybody in the Great Hall participated in this…this culinary warfare tonight," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

Wood flashed a look at Meghan as if to say, "What did I tell you?"

"I understand that this outburst of fighting may have had to do with all the pent-up stress, competitive urges, and hard feelings that have surrounded today's events," Dumbledore continued. "However, that does not excuse you having acted as you did. Therefore, there most certainly must be consequences.

"We have all come to the decision that the more traditional punishments, such as the deduction of House points, would not be suitable in this case."

And then, as if he had read their minds, "Nor would the revoking of team memberships or captaincies."

All of the four looked greatly relieved, but wary.

"What we _have_ decided," said Dumbledore, "is that the students who participated in any sort of fighting tonight, aside from you four, will spend the evening cleaning up the Great Hall so that it is suitable for use again tomorrow, without the assistance of the elves employed here. _All _of those students involved will do so. You would be surprised at how well I will be able to tell who is who.

"As for you two," Dumbledore turned to Meghan and Wood, "You, who were the first ones to set an example for the others of getting your clothes into a filthy mess, will spend the year learning the value of keeping clothes clean."

Meghan and Wood exchanged wary looks.

"Therefore," Dumbledore went on, "You will spend all of your Friday nights working in the laundry room for the rest of the school term."

Wood whistled inward in shock, and Meghan grimaced.

"The specific instructions," said Dumbledore, "are these: every Friday night after dinner, but starting this Saturday night, you two will report straight to the laundry room, where the school launderer will meet you and have all your work ready for you. I assure you, there will be _bales_ of dirty laundry to wash. And wash it, you will, as well as rinse it out, hang it up to dry, fold it, and deliver it to the door of each House's Common Room. You will personally deliver it to the students in your own House by yourselves, to reconcile the shame you put on them by your representation. Miss Wolf, you will put away the laundry into the dormitories for the girls of your house; Mister Wood, you will do the same thing for the boys. Then you will both clean up the laundry room when you are finished. You are not to be dismissed until _all_ this has been done."

Meghan had thrown heavy rocks at people before and thought nothing of it. Now she was certain she would never throw so much as a crumb again.

"I will warn you, further,"-it was Professor McGonagall speaking now-"that before you run off to any late-night Quidditch practices, any Band instrument playing, any chats with your friends, or-heaven forbid!- anything as productive as studying or school work, or even sleep, the launderer and the accompanying house-elves must approve of the job you have done, or else you will not be permitted to leave. Any sloppy or half-done work will not be excused. Is all that understood?"

Meghan and Wood nodded vigorously.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "I think we have settled that one." He turned toward Crystal and SB. "Now as for you two, we decided…"

"Pardon me, Professor Dumbledore- may I have a word with you?" A new voice broke in. Everyone turned to see the grumpy face of the Argus Filch the caretaker, who had one of the Weasley twins on either side of him, each being held by an ear. Before Dumbledore could reply, Filch started on a tirade.

"I was getting prepared to sweep the dust out of the halls, and _this_ is what I found in the broom closet!" Filch let go of Fred and George and pulled out two brooms from under his arm, the bristles of which were gummed together all throughout with what looked like a thousand chewed-up wads of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"I tell you, this was no accident, and nor were the culprits very hard to find! When I looked around, I noticed these two standing nearby, as they always do when trouble can be found. I'll have you know that I am well aware of what these boys are up to when they think that I can't see them. Doesn't this _look _like something they would do?"

Fred and George, looking horrified, shook their heads in fierce disagreement From behind Dumbledore, Snape's mouth crinkled into a nasty sneer.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, and seeing the tired look on Dumbledore's face, said, "I'll handle the matter from here, Albus. You go get some rest. It's been a long day."

"All right, then, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed. "Fizzing Whizbees!"

The gargoyle disclosed the entrance to the spinning staircase once more, and Dumbledore stepped on and said, "You all should get some rest, too. However, with the rate at which students are getting in trouble tonight, we'll all be lucky if we can sleep at all by the time breakfast rolls around." He shook his head and disappeared from view when the gargoyle jumped back into place.

When he was gone, Professor McGonagall turned sternly toward the twins.

"You two ought to be _ashamed_ of yourselves!"

"But we didn't do it- did we, Fred?" George protested. Fred shook his head.

Snape make a _tsk_-ing noise behind McGonagall, but she paid no attention.

"Don't give me that, Mr. Weasley- both of you Weasleys. Your reputation is known around the entire school." She turned to Filch. "Argus, how long ago did you discover this?"

"Uh…" the caretaker squinted and turned his head to the side, thinking. "About fifteen minutes ago. I've been looking for an appropriate authority figure around here for some time, now." His eyes scanned McGonagall, Snape, Madam Hooch, and Madam Pince, and he said, "Looks like they've been hiding out here."

"Your robes are clean," McGonagall said, turning back again and observing the twins. "So you apparently did not participate in the food fight, then."

"Food fight?" Fred's eyes widened, amazed. "There was a _real _food fight?"

"Yes, Fred, but just because you weren't a part of it, that doesn't mean that what you and your brother did to these brooms is any more excusable!" McGonagall shouted, exasperated. She turned to Crystal and SB. "You two ladies will clean up whatever mayhem you caused anywhere near the library, and assist Madam Pince there for the rest of the year. You will do it every day after dinner until ten. Also, you will clean the girls' bathroom tonight. Fred and George, you will thoroughly de-gum those brooms and clean the boys' bathroom. Is that understood?"

"But we _didn't_-" Fred protested.

"You are already in enough trouble tonight, so I don't want to hear another word!"

"But-"

"Have I not made myself clear, Mister Weasley?"

Fred sighed dejectedly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now the four of you may go and clean the bathrooms. You will not be dismissed for the night until everything, and I mean _everything_, is spotless. Madam Hooch, you may escort these two to the laundry room right now."

The students obediently nodded, and the small group dispersed in different directions. Madam Hooch, satisfied, put an arm behind Meghan and Wood and said:

"Well, let's go then, shall we? We haven't a moment to waste."

Then she led them down the hall to begin a year's sentence.


End file.
